Brotherhood
by xerus
Summary: A short study on familial bonds.
1. Default Chapter

It's that time again. I'm going to attempt another story. This isn't going to be a long one, but it's something that's been rattling around in my brain for a while.

I still don't own the OC, but Josh, if you ever need someone to make you a few chrysanthemums out of carrots, I'll trade you some garnishes for the rights to your characters. Until that day nears, you still own everything and I am practicing my knife skills. And as usual, I lifted some lines from the show and reworked them. You'll recognize them.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Brotherhood

Chapter One.

Thursday, 7:15 AM

Sandy knocked on the door of the pool house… Ryan's room. Getting no answer, he walked in. The bed was already made, books piled carefully beside the school bag and the sound of the shower running.

"Guess my work here is done…" Sandy smiled to himself. He still had to wake his other son.

The one who was definitely not a morning person.

The one that takes after his mother.

As expected, Seth was still sprawled all over his bed, a tangle of arms, legs and blankets.

"C'mon Seth… Up and at 'em… Let's go…"

A mop of dark, unruly hair emerged from a layer of blankets.

"Up and at 'em? When did I die and Camp Tuckaho become hell?"

Kirsten's voice carried from outside his room.

"Seth. Bed. Out. Now…"

Seth groaned and sat up. "Tag team parenting… That's so…. When did you and mom become all about the Dr. Spock thing?"

"The day we got in over out heads…"

"Ah… So this is Ryan's fault then?"

"If it makes you feel better then yes, it's all Ryan's fault. Now move it before you miss your ride. I've got to leave and your mom's got a meeting in half an hour."

"Riiiiight… Law and order for the rich and dysfunctional must take precedence over family life. I see where your priorities lie…"

Seth meant the words as a joke. Since leaving the PD's office, his dad had become ambivalent about his work.

Sandy tried to hide his growing irritation. It wasn't Seth's fault his job was becoming a burden. Nuisance lawsuits and petty legal squabbles were sucking the life out of him. He knew Seth was just being Seth and maybe another morning he'd let it slide, but this morning…

"Law and order for the rich and dysfunctional puts the clothes on your back and the IPOD in your pocket…" He snarked.

"Dad, is this about me and my love of self and the toys that are available for conspicuous consumption or are you having second thoughts about selling out?"

"Seth!"

Seth realized he'd not only stepped over the line but had thrown himself bodily on top of a Sandy Cohen neurosis filled land mine. He quickly backpedaled.

"Dad, I'm sorry, but if you hate your job so much, why don't you go back to the PD's office?"

His father sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. "It's not that simple…"

Seth swung his legs over the side of his bed and moved closer to his dad.

"It didn't seem that hard to leave… and it's not like corporate lawyers are knocking down the Public Defender's door wanting to make 50 grand a year…"

"Seth, I can't just leave the firm…"

He stood up and put on his robe, turning to face his father.

"Because law and order for the rich and dysfunctional puts the clothes on my back and the IPOD in my pocket… I'm just saying you were happier and less anal retentive when you were working for, like, slave wages…"

"Hey… I may be a lot of things, but anal retentive…"

Just then, Kirsten stuck her head in the door.

"Sandy… Don't say anal. Seth. Car. Leaving. Soon…"

"Your mother, on the other hand…" Sandy muttered while Seth was rifling through his closet, grabbing his clothes for the day before disappearing into his washroom. "Thanks Seth… You know… for the pep talk…" He said through the closed door.

"Guess my work here is done…" Seth whispered as he stepped into the shower.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ryan and Lindsay met Seth in Harbour's courtyard for lunch. As usual, they were working on a physics assignment, half listening while Seth prattled on about a new roller coaster at Six Flags.

"So, I'm thinking road trip, day after tomorrow. You guys, me and Alex… Check this puppy out…"

Ryan looked dubiously at Seth.

"Amusement park… Ferris wheels, roller coasters…?"

"Yes and bumper cars and giant floating swans…"

"Roller coasters…"

"Ladybug trains, merry-go-rounds…."

"320 feet up… 85 degree decline… That's almost straight down, Seth… Negative 3.1 G-force, 95 miles per hour… and how is that supposed to be fun?"

Seth looked at Lindsay.

"Okay _Aunt_ Lindsay… Where is Chino Ryan and why have you replaced him with "Bill Nye the Science Guy"…"

The glare leveled at Seth by his brother showed him that "Chino Ryan" was alive and well.

Lindsay winked at Seth before whispering in Ryan's ear. He watched as a flush of red crept up Ryan's cheeks.

"How early are we leaving on Saturday?" Ryan managed to sputter.

7:30 PM

Sandy loosened his tie and undid the top two buttons of his shirt. Walking into the kitchen he saw Seth perusing a pile of well used take-out menus, looking up when he heard his father.

"Hey dad… Mom's going to be late… Some emergency thing with Grandpa and the zoning commission. Any preference from our wide assortment of dinner choices?"

Sandy shook his head as he reached into the bread basket, snagging a bagel.

"Not for me, thanks… I had a late lunch. Is Ryan home yet?"

"Yeah… He was out with Lindsay for a couple of hours so I imagine he's now in the shower… "Dropping off the kids"…"

Seth enjoyed watching his father's face turn from totally clueless to embarrassed comprehension.

"I think that's more information than I needed, son…"

Seth managed to maintain a straight face as he reminded his dad about a certain _painful_ conversation they had last year.

"You did say we Cohens are very sexual beings and Ryan **is** a Cohen now…"

Sandy cringed, his words coming back to haunt him.

"Virile… Get used to it…" Seth didn't know how much longer he could keep from laughing.

"Just swallowed a little bit of throw up… I'm going to pretend we never had this conversation… Thanks Seth…"

"Hey… What's up?" Ryan asked as he entered the kitchen, his hair damp.

"I've uh, got some uh, papers to uh, look at… I'll be in my uh, office if you guys… if you need me…"

Sandy made a quick escape, not looking at Ryan or Seth as he left for the refuge of his den.

"Your dad okay?"

Seth shrugged. "Bad clams at lunch… Who knows? Wanna order pizza… run a few games?"

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Friday, 3:35 AM

He'd been sitting for the last hour watching Ryan sleep, listening to the hypnotic rhythm of steady breathing. He had gotten closer earlier, looking at the relaxed, peaceful face. Smiling, he watched the blond boy, oblivious to the world around him, until his legs started to cramp and he quietly slumped into a chair, pondering his next move.

6:55 Am

Sandy loaded his surfboard into the back of the Range Rover. It was a perfect morning to catch a few waves. It was out here he could think clearly. Think about work and how miserable he was. Seth was right. Partridge, Savidge and Kohn had nearly succeeded in sucking the life out of him. Yesterday's late lunch had been with his former boss at the Public Defenders office and ended with Sandy agreeing to think about returning to his former position. Seth had been right again. There weren't a lot of corporate lawyers willing to settle for 50 K a year. Eating sandwiches in a dingy office with an overworked, underpaid legal aid attorney whose love of the job exuded from him made Sandy realize how much he missed it. He'd have to talk it over with Kirsten but that would be more of a formality. Kirsten knew he'd never be happy working in a large firm but gave him the time and space to come to that realization himself. Sliding into the driver's seat, Sandy made a mental note to thank Seth for the push he needed to find his way back from the dark side.

For a few brief minutes, all was right with the world.

7:15 AM

Kirsten heard the door leading from the garage close. Smiling, she reached into the cupboard and grabbed another mug, pouring coffee for her husband. The scent of the salty ocean air clung to him. She loved that smell, especially on Sandy. She waited for his touch, for the feel of his lips on her neck.

"Nice…" she whispered before turning to face him, rewarding her husband with a kiss. They enjoyed the few moments of quiet, lost in each other.

"I missed this…" Sandy said quietly.

"Me too…"

"We need to do this more often…" He paused for a minute. "I'm going back to the PD's office…"

Kirsten didn't say anything, just held Sandy closer.

"Are you okay with this…?" He faltered. "I mean… You know it's a huge pay cut…"

"I've missed the self righteous Sandy Cohen… I found him to be very charming…"

"I love you… You know that, don't you?"

"I've never doubted it…"

"Would you two break it up? I'd rather not be scarred by images of my parents getting their mack on in the kitchen…"

Ignoring Seth, Sandy and Kirsten indulged in one more kiss before breaking off. Handing Sandy his coffee mug, she turned to Seth.

"Is Ryan up?"

Seth shook his head as he emptied some Frosted Flakes into a bowl.

"He's probably trying to figure out that age old question of Jello being a liquid or a solid. It strikes me as a bit of a mystery… Did you know that Ryan is a physics nerd now?"

Sandy took another mouthful of coffee and swallowed.

"I'll get him…"

"And I'll be ready to take you guys to school in 15 minutes." Kirsten added before heading upstairs.

7:30AM

Sandy knocked on the door of the pool house… Ryan's room. Getting no answer he walked in. The bed was unmade, books scattered on the floor beside it. The washroom door was open and the lights were off.

The room was empty.


	2. Chapter Two

Well, if **muchtvs** can update not once, not twice, but three times in like, um, a week, I guess that means I better put my knives away, stop driving the kids all over the freaking place, doing the mountain of laundry that has mysteriously pile up and all the other crap that constitutes real life and start writing again.

Thanks for all the wonderful reviews and sorry it took so long for me to get onto my ass and post this.

Unless Josh and Warner decide to bestow upon me the gift of OC ownership, well you know they'll only be mine in my over-active fantasy life.

Chapter Two.

Sandy left the pool house and checked around outside. Ryan's bike was still in the garage.

That left the last option.

The logical one.

Late night with Monty Python's Flying Circus… The DVD collection. Ryan was probably crashed out in the family room, sleeping on the couch. Sandy and Kirsten had purposely not put televisions in either boy's room, preferring that the family room be used as a **_family_** room.

Or spare bedroom when a teen-aged boy had trouble falling asleep.

He cut through the now vacant kitchen, stopping only to pour one more mug of coffee and grab a bagel… "Breakfast of Champions" in the Cohen household.

Shit.

Another empty room.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ryan handed Trey a coffee, a doughnut store bagel before sitting down in the sand and taking the lid off his own cup. The warmth from his coffee thawed his cold fingers.

"You gonna tell me what's going on 'cause it's a little soon for parole…" He asked, staring out at the waves.

"Ya think? I'm not due for a hearing for another year… Let's just put this down to dumb fucking Atwood luck…"

They sat in silence. Trey reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes. Lighting one, he wordlessly handed the package and lighter to Ryan. Inhaling deeply, the younger brother held the smoke in lungs before releasing it. Except for the occasional jogger, the cool weather kept the beach deserted. Trey tossed the filtered end of his cigarette away from him while Ryan buried his deep in the sand.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

After some debate/argument, it was agreed that Seth would go to school and Kirsten would go to the office. Seth wasn't fooled however. His parents were worried about Ryan. Phone calls to Lindsay and Marissa came up empty and Seth was banished to the hallowed halls of Harbour. Like hell. He'd do a quick recon to see if anyone had heard from Ryan and then bail. He would have to be stealth though. The last thing he wanted was to catch some shrapnel from the fallout produced by the parental rant when Ryan decided to show his face.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

10 AM

Sandy searched through Ryan's desk, looking for answers. If he'd disappeared a year and a half ago that would have made more sense. The Cohens plus One spent the first few months walking on eggshells, trying to find a way to co-exist with a saddened, emotionally scarred, angry young man.

A boy really.

One that had lived through and seen things that no kid should ever have to.

Things that Sandy knew haunted the lives of other clients, other kids, forcing them to give up on hopes, dreams, a future.

Things Ryan hadn't given up on, despite his words and his false bravado.

For the last eighteen months they had the privilege of watching him turn into a self-confident teenager, accepting the challenges of a new family and a new life.

Even the summer spent in Chino…

No… Sandy didn't want to think about that, how empty the house was. But Ryan came back. Seth came back. A family together.

No note, no clues, no answers. Damn. Sandy sat on the edge of the bed, his fingers massaging the tension that was building behind his eyes. After the spots stopped dancing beneath his eyelids, he pushed himself off the bed, his hand brushing against something.

Ryan's leather wrist cuff.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ryan absently ran his fingers over the bare spot on his wrist. He had thought that by leaving his cuff on the bed, Sandy and Kirsten would know he was coming back. He hoped they weren't worried.

That was something he wasn't used to yet.

Being worried over.

That had probably been the hardest adjustment to living with the Cohens. He'd gone from no one giving a damn about him to an almost suffocating amount of concern for his welfare… And he liked it.

Ryan shook his head at Trey's offer of a second cigarette. Not that he didn't want it, but he knew there were only a few left in the pack and he wanted to find out what the fuck was going on and why the hell was his brother in his bedroom at 4 in the morning. He wanted answers before Trey came up with the excuse of needing more smokes.

He watched as Trey absently played with the small medallion on the chain around his neck.

St. Jude.

Patron Saint of lost causes.

Trey and Arturo both thought it had been a joke when 'Turo's mom gave one to both of her "two troublemakers". Ryan knew she'd been serious. Just as she'd been when she put her arms around his shoulders and reminded him he would always be a "good boy". That he would make her proud. Mrs. Alvarez knew he wasn't the father of Theresa's baby, but she did an excellent job of pretending that they would have the "happily fucking ever after"…

And then there was no more baby.

Just like that.

Not even safe inside a mother's womb.

Protected and loved.

Cared for by three people trying to make everything perfect.

Ryan pushed those thoughts to the dark recesses of his brain. He couldn't think about that now.

This was about Trey.

Trey stood up and held out his hand for Ryan to pull himself up with.

"Let's walk little brother, maybe you can help me figure a way out of this mess.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

10:30 AM.

Kirsten sat at her desk, methodically moving a pile of paperwork from one side of her desk to another, stopping only to redial Ryan's cell phone.

The one they told him had better be with him whenever he left the house.

The one that was sending all messages straight to voice mail.

Each message identical.

A forced calm.

A request to call home.

A "love you, sweetie…"

It was the not knowing that was making her anxious. Did Ryan leave early this morning, soon after bidding them "good night" or sometime in between? What could have been so important that he couldn't talk to them before he left? Or left a note?

Since the boys returned home at the end of summer, she'd been afraid to let them out of her sight.

Irrational?

Yes.

A mother's perogative to be "slightly overprotective" after spending two months worrying half to death over her sons?

Absolutely.

Her shift into maternal overdrive?

It was about time she admitted she was a type A personality… She had a renovated family room to prove it.

Kirsten smiled as she remembered the thrill of seeing her boys when they walked into the kitchen together…

"Kiki...?"

Her smile faded as she warily looked up at her father. Kirsten picked up the neatly stacked papers and shuffled through them.

"I'm busy Dad… Not really a good time… Why don't you set something up with Grace? She'll know when I have an opening…"

"I hardly think I need an appointment to speak to my own daughter."

She put the papers down again and sighed. She definitely did not want to deal with her dad. Kirsten was still having trouble reconciling her father's betrayal of her mother… Her sister… **_Sisters…_** Herself. She looked up at the man who had become a stranger to her.

"Dad?"

"I want to talk to you about that boy and Lindsay…"

Kirsten shook her head.

"No… No way… I'm not having this discussion with you again. Ryan and Lindsay are friends."

Caleb cut in, ignoring Kirsten's effort to halt the conversation.

"He's trouble. He stole a car. He burned down my house. He's managed to scam his way into my family and I want you to keep that boy away from my…"

"Your what, dad?" Kirsten spat. Every emotion she'd been holding deep within herself since the summer came out as a part of a verbal assault directed at her father. She stood up and leaned forward.

"You've treated Lindsay like your dirty little secret for the last 16 years. That "boy"? His name **is** Ryan and you've treated him like he's our secret…"

"He's only after money… He got a girl pregnant. I won't allow…"

Kirsten's voice turned cold.

"Ryan took responsibility for a child that wasn't his. He was willing to give up everything for that baby. What did **you** give up, Dad? A cash filled envelope once a year? Faithfully delivered August first with a warning to Renee Wheeler not to say anything? You treat Ryan like dirt in his own home. You think no one heard the things you've said to him? Seth did and he came to us because he couldn't stand hearing you tear down his brother. It stops now or you won't be welcome in our home…"

"I built that house…" Caleb snapped.

Kirsten now stood inches away from him.

"Yeah, that's right. How can I forget." She lashed back. "Your design, your construction crew, your rules… And what did I do? I've cleaned up behind you. All your legal problems… Sandy's bailed you out, how many times? He could have been disbarred for what you needed him to do. Did you ever thank him? So yeah, you may have built my house, but my family has more than paid for it!"

She grabbed her briefcase and leveled one more glare at her father before leaving.

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out…"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The brothers walked along the edge of the water, damp sand clinging to the bottom of Ryan's boots and Trey's prison issue runners. Ryan flipped up the shearling collar of his corduroy jacket and dug his hands deeper into the pockets. Trey seemed oblivious to the cold, instead enjoying the wind and the spray from the crashing waves.

"So these people you live with…. Looks like they're taking good care of you…"

Ryan nodded.

"Yeah…"

"School?"

"It's good…"

"You know I'll kick your ass if you flunk out. One of the Atwoods has gotta go to college. Do something other than land in jail…"

Ryan gave a non-committal shrug, hiding a smile.

"Maybe…"

Trey cuffed him on the back of the head.

"OW… Okay… I think so…"

He side stepped when he saw Trey's hand come up again.

"Alright… I'm working my ass off so I can get a scholarship…" He elaborated, giving Trey a half smile.

Trey grinned as he grabbed Ryan and put him in a headlock…

"That's what I wanted to hear…" He rubbed his knuckles into his younger brother's head before releasing him. "C'mon, race you to the pier…"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

11 AM.

Seth watched the clock, trying to keep his mind off Ryan and Mr. Schmidt's mole. Calculus was the only class he and Ryan had together. He tried to listen as the teacher droned on about linear and quadratic inequalities. No one had seen Ryan that morning. Dr. Kim had cornered him earlier to ask of Ryan's whereabouts. Seth had stage whispered something about the Norwalk Virus, projectile vomiting and explosive uh, you know, before ducking into the boys washroom. He locked himself in a stall, thinking about his next move. Short of Ryan being beamed back to the "mothership" nothing else seemed to make sense. He had been purposely vague when Lindsay asked about Ryan, probably confirming her suspicions that he'd been dropped on his head more than once as a child.

He preferred the term enigmatic, but now was not the time for semantics.

He carefully opened the washroom door and looked down the empty hallway. Now was the time to escape.

Stealthily, of course.

Damn, he should have worn black.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

11:20 AM.

Ryan paid for the cigarettes, 2 cokes and a container of nachos covered in a cheese like substance. He shoved the smokes into his pocket, juggling the pop and nachos as he made his way back to the beach to where Trey was waiting. He handed his brother the chips and a coke before settling down on the sand. He shook his head at Trey's offering of food.

"No thanks…. You know that orange stuff is only 2 atoms away from being considered a polymer?"

Trey gave him a sideways glance before loading a chip with orange goo and putting it in his mouth.

"My baby brother… Science geek…" He waited a moment before he added. "Cool…"

Once Trey was finished eating, Ryan tossed him the package of Marlboro's.

"What do you want from me Trey?" Ryan kept his voice low and non-confrontational, leaning back on his elbows as he waited for an answer.

Words didn't always mean anything. Sometimes people talked just to hear themselves speak. Ryan had learned that more could be said in the silence separating the words. That's how it was between him and Trey.

Trey was on his third cigarette before he said. "I need your help…"

Ryan flicked an ash and brought his cigarette back up to his lips.

"It's not like that…. Cohen's your lawyer?"

A subtle nod was the answer.

"Think he'll help me?"

Ryan shrugged before answering, not taking his eyes off the ocean.

"We stole a car… You had a gun, drugs and priors… Sandy can't make that go away…"

Trey looked at his brother. Blue eyes mirrored by the same blue eyes.

"I don't want him to get me out… I need him to get me back in…"


	3. Chapter Three

Okay, this chapter is dedicated to our beloved **smc36** also known as **Storymom.** Not only has she endured liposuction (she can say it was a twisted intestine, but I know the real story), MRSA and IV antibiotics, it's also her birthday. In honour of her special day, she has generously offered to buy all rights to the OC and have BMcK express mailed to me. I'm a lucky, lucky woman.

This story has also taken off on a different vein than I had originally planned. This is what happens when I write a chapter at a hockey game. Yup, me and 9,100 of my closest friends. Hopefully there is still some flow to this.

Thanks again for all your reviews and encouragement. No pushing now, we'll all take turns on the mood swings.

Chapter Three.

12:15 PM

Sandy poured himself another mug of coffee, adding to the collection of abandoned ones scattered throughout the house. He stared at Ryan's wrist cuff on the counter before picking up the piece of leather, fingering its worn softness.

The fact that Ryan only took it off the shower or sleep said something.

That he found it in the middle of his bed was another clue.

Ryan had taken his wallet, cell phone and jacket, but left this. He had left a piece of himself behind as if to tell them he was coming back.

But why did he leave?

Sandy picked up his mug and answered the knocking on the door.

Shit.

Suits and shields.

He put his coffee down. Another mug left to fend for itself.

"Agents Torres and Fielding. We're looking for Ryan Atwood." came the clipped, no-nonsense voice of suit number one.

"Gentlemen, I'm Sandy Cohen, but then I'm sure you already know that. I'm Ryan's father **_and_** his lawyer. What can I help you with?"

Suit number two, Agent Fielding quickly glanced through his notes.

"According to our information, Ryan Atwood is a ward of the state of whom you've taken guardianship…"

"Ryan **is **my son." Sandy corrected. "Now I'll ask you again, what can I help you with?"

"There was an escape from the California Institute for Men. Trey Atwood was a part of it…"

Sandy shook his head. "When did this happen?" He interrupted.

"Last night. We've recaptured two of the men involved. Three more remain at large."

The last clue fell into place. Ryan was with Trey. Damn. Sandy needed to think like a lawyer.

"Ryan and Trey don't have much of a relationship. He hasn't seen his brother in over a year."

"Can we talk to "your son"? The snark Agent Torres leveled at Sandy didn't go unnoticed.

"My **_sons_** are at school. Why don't you leave your card and Ryan and **_I _** will talk with you." Sandy's emphasis on the words "sons" and "I" came through loud and clear. Agent Torres backed off a little.

"If you hear from Ryan before then…."

"You'll have our co-operation." Sandy finished, taking the card the Federal agent held out to him. Closing the door, he called Ryan's phone for the 14th time… Or was it the 15th?

That boy was going to feel the full weight of some righteous anger.

In biblical proportions.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"How'd you get out?"

Trey shook the last cigarette from the package.

"Wasn't my choice." He shrugged. Trey's hands trembled as he struggled with the lighter. Finally succeeding, he drew heavily on the cigarette.

"So you just tripped over someone's foot and landed on the other side of the fence?"

The flashpoint of anger in his brother's eyes made Ryan retreat back to the quiet zone and wait for Trey to explain. He watched as the cigarette burned down to the filter. Searching his pockets and coming up empty, Trey took a deep breath and continued.

"I didn't know nothing about a break. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time and got taken for the ride." Trey took a handful of sand and watched it trickle through his fingers. "Can't be a witness if I'm a part of the action… Who's gonna believe me? That's why I need your lawyer's help. I can't just turn myself in to the cops. It's gotta look like they caught me, but I don't need my head blown off by some rookie tryin' to make a name for himself…"

He dug his fingers deeper in the sand , letting the wind blow the sifting granules.

Ryan carefully processed all the information. He knew his brother was telling the truth. He and Trey were the worst liars. It was one trait they hadn't learned very well from their parents. The lack of that particular skill led to being on the wrong end of someone's fist too many times.

Long minutes passed before he stood up, wiping the grit from his jeans.

"Where you going?" Trey asked, not taking his eyes from the ocean.

"We're outta smokes…"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Kirsten spent part of the afternoon driving, trying to keep her anger at her father from consuming her. She also told herself that maybe, she might find Ryan just randomly walking down the sidewalk or worse, lying in a ditch somewhere wishing he'd worn clean boxers. She had no clue where to look. Driving to Chino would have been an option, but Theresa and her mother had moved to Atlanta. There was really no one else Ryan would want to see.

His mother?

Aside from the Christmas gift he received from Dawn last year, he hadn't heard from her.

As far as she knew anyway.

It would probably be better if she went home.

She and Sandy would figure this out together.

And come up with a plan to ground that boy until he was 54.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ryan used the ATM at the 7-11, pulling out 50 bucks. He picked up two packages of Marlboros, an extra lighter and an assortment of chocolate bars.

Nicotine and chocolate.

A Trey Atwood special.

2:45 PM

"Lindsay…"

Lindsay looked up to see who had derailed her train of thought.

Caleb Nichol… Caleb… Cal… Dad…

"Uh, hey… What are you doing here?"

"Can't a father get to know his daughter? I'd like to take you out for a late lunch…"

"Today? I, um…"

"Good…" Caleb had no intention of Lindsay refusing. Obviously Renee was incapable of raising **_his _**child. "My jag is out front…. Paolo's does a wonderful Tilapia. You can call you mother from my car…"

Lindsay hesitated before following him, her uh… the male contributor to her DNA strands.

The ride to the restaurant was made in awkward silence. Lindsay wished Ryan had been with her. He'd known Caleb longer than she did. Whenever she'd ask him about her father, he recited a "Cliff's Notes" version of the Caleb Nichol biography. Then again the only time the subject came up, the two of them were in the pool house and Ryan had preferred to use his mouth for other things.

Not that she was complaining.

"Lindsay…" Caleb's tone was sharp, almost annoyed that his daughter wasn't paying attention.

"I'm sorry…" She said contritely, tearing her mind away from the thought of Ryan's lips.

"I asked you what you were taking in school. Your junior year is very important…"

"Um… World lit, Spanish, chemistry, algebra, physics…."

"You should learn French instead of Spanish…. Have you thought about studying economics? Ahhhh…. Here we are…" Caleb announced as he pulled in front of the restaurant. Lindsay's door was opened by a uniformed young man who held his arm out to her. She realized he was supposed to assist her out of the vehicle. She gave him a weak smile. He gave her a reassuring one. She watched as the valet took the keys from Caleb.

Her father escorted her into a restaurant that she was totally under dressed for. Lindsay felt like the poor relations… Well, maybe not poor, but definitely middle class…. Middle, middle class.

A tuxedoed Maitre'd held out a chair for her and placed a napkin on her lap. She wondered if he was going to tie a bib around her neck as well since she had lost the ability to get out of a car and unfold a napkin by herself.

Was there a matron to help her go potty as well?

She brought her attention back to Caleb, now that the Maitre'd finished fawning over him. Caleb waved off the menus the waiter brought.

"We'll have the tilapia, rice pilaf and the roasted baby vegetables. I'll have a glass of '93 Pinot Gris. My daughter will have club soda with lime."

Great, not only could Lindsay **_not_** pick her own meal, she apparently didn't know what type of beverage she wanted. At this point she was surprised Caleb didn't ask for her drink to be served in a sippy cup.

What the hell was tilapia anyway?

4:05 PM

The Cohens were pondering their next move. Sandy had filled Kirsten in on the details of Agents Torres and Fielding's visit and the news of Trey's spontaneous unauthorized leave of absence from prison. They were afraid that Ryan was now caught up in something he was ill-equipped to handle.

_Dammit Trey! _Kirsten thought. He was going to drag Ryan down again. More than that, he put him in danger.

Her son.

The one who wasn't answering his damn cell phone.

The cell phone she was going to have surgically implanted in his hand. Maybe a Lojack would be better. Day surgery. In and out.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Seth had called home to let his parents know that he was going to check out a couple of places where Ryan had been known to hang out. Actually, other than The Bait Shop and Lindsay's, the only place left was the library and if Ryan had caused this much grief because he was buried in some books, then he'd have to kick his brother's ass himself.

Sort of.

Maybe.

Fuck, he'd just threaten to do it and hope Ryan wouldn't laugh too hard.

Alex might provide some insight into this whole thing, or at least provide a small diversion.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lindsay picked at her fish. Unless it was battered, deep fried and came in the shape of a rectangle, she generally didn't eat anything that lived in the water.

"Is there something wrong with your dinner? I can have the chef make you something else…"

"No… It's fine, thank you." Lindsay cut a small piece and tried not to make a face as she ate it. She wished she hadn't agreed to this "late lunch". It had turned out to be more of an inquisition.

So far, Spanish was a language for gardeners and housekeepers, World Literature was reserved for those who ended each sentence with the phrase "Would you like fries with that…", and chemistry was okay if she planned on becoming another "Unibomber". At least algebra held some promise.

"You mentioned you're studying physics…"

She visibly brightened when Caleb brought that up. It was her favourite subject. The fact that her lab partner was not only smart, but gorgeous as well didn't hurt either. Lindsay placed her napkin on her plate and discretely pushed it aside… Well as discretely as she could.

Caleb pretended not to notice. His daughter had actually smiled for the first time since they'd arrived.

"My lab partner and I are working on increasing the tensile strength of a light weight steel alloy without compromising structural integrity. It could be beneficial in the construction industry… Commercial and residential…"

That brought a smile to Caleb's face. Another daughter in the family business. He had given up on Seth following in his footsteps ever since he became involved with that juvenile delinquent Kirsten felt sorry for.

"I trust your lab partner is pulling his or her weight because this project sounds promising."

"Actually, it was Ryan's idea. He wanted to…"

Caleb's face became cold, hard.

"Ryan? Ryan Atwood?"

"Um, yeah…. He's really smart and he wants to be an architect…" Lindsay was confused by Caleb's sudden dark demeanor.

"I'll call the school Monday and arrange for a new partner…"

"Why would you do that? Ryan's the smartest one in the class…"

"That boy has insinuated himself into one of my daughter's lives… I won't have him leech onto yours. He's nothing but a criminal and I won't allow…"

"You won't allow?" Lindsay couldn't believe what she was hearing. . "Who are you to tell me who I can be lab partners with?" She said, her voice rising.

Caleb kept his voice low and even, but there was an air of authority in it.

"I'm your father and I…"

"You only admitted you were my father to save yourself from going to jail, so who's the criminal?" Lindsay stood up, fighting back tears. She was not going to let "him" see her cry. "I knew this was a mistake. You don't want to get to know me… Who I am… You want me to fit into your idea of me…"

With that, she walked out of the restaurant, angrily swiping the tears that slid down her cheeks.

Caleb drained the last of his wine. This was all that boy's fault. Ryan was turning out to be a bigger problem than he first anticipated.

Well, that would change.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

5:12 PM

Ryan fumbled through his pockets, looking for a quarter. After inserting the coin and dialing the number, the burning in his chest reminded him of the need to exhale.

"Hello…" Ryan winced at the anxiety in his foster father's voice.

"Sandy… Hey, uh…" Was all Ryan managed to get out before the wrath of Sandford Cohen opened up on him.


	4. Chapter Four

You'd probably still be waiting for this if **smc** didn't threaten to cross over the border and kill me. I've sort of strayed and fallen into a rabbit hole as far as this story goes. Beware of the Jabberwock, my friends.

Time for my meds Josh. Please don't sue. I own nothing. Hell, I'll even give you the rights to the original characters.

Chapter Four

Trey laughed as Ryan tightly closed his eyes and moved the phone away from his ear. He didn't have to hear the words directed at his brother. Ryan's expression said everything.

The Cohens were worried.

Shit.

All he wanted was to see his brother before he'd disappeared. It was supposed to be quick and easy. He hadn't counted on Ryan waking up. The fact that his younger brother had slept through most of his **_surprise_** visit showed him that the Cohens had given Ryan something the Atwoods never did.

Freedom from fear… Of always having to be on your guard… Always waiting…

The wrath of Sandy Cohen could have been the Eighth Horseman of the Apocalypse. Ryan had pulled the phone away from his ear, but only as an act of preservation.

Ruptured ear drum? Been there, done that, thanks to Dawn's boyfriend of the month number two. He switched the phone to his left hand and brought it back up.

Concern.

Anger.

The fury in Sandy's voice had been fueled by worry.

**That** came through, loud and clear.

It took a few more minutes of listening to Sandy's diatribe before Ryan could get a word in.

"I'm sorry…"

"Oh… You better believe you're sorry… No TV, no Play Station, no iPod. I'd take away your cell phone, but apparently, you don't know how to use it 'cause that's the only reason I can think of why you didn't call us before now…"

_Cellphone? **Shit…**_

Ryan reached into the left inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out the small Razr V3 the Cohens had given him. **_Fuck…_** Kirsten was probably going to have it surgically implanted in the part of his body that rarely saw the light of day. Then again he'd be lucky if **he **ever saw the outside of Casa Cohen again without a GPS up his ass as well.

Trey saw his brother pull something from his pocket, staring at it. Walking over, he saw it was a cell phone and yanked it from Ryan's hand.

"Ryan… Are you listening to me?"

The silence on the other end had unnerved Sandy.

"Yeah… uh,… Hey! Cut it out…" Ryan fired back at Trey, who had just cuffed him again.

"You had this all the time and you didn't call them?"

"Is Trey with you?"

"Yeah… I mean no… I forgot I had it." Ryan answered both questions.

"Ryan, put Trey on the phone… Now…"

He held out the phone to the older Atwood.

"Trey?"

The bravado was gone as Trey nervously licked his lips and searched his pockets, only to come up with chocolate bar wrappers and an empty cigarette package. Ryan took a few steps back, lighting his own cigarette and inhaling. Hard.

Trey put the phone to his ear just as Ryan exhaled, blowing smoke in his brother's direction.

"Prick." He muttered as he grabbed the cigarette from Ryan.

"Excuse me?"

Sandy.

Phone.

Seriously beyond pissed off.

"Sorry uh, Mr. Cohen…"

"Do you have any idea how much trouble you're in? That you managed to drag Ryan into?"

"It wasn't supposed to be like this…. I didn't mean…"

Sandy lost it.

"Just like you didn't **mean** Thanksgiving last year?"

Trey glanced up at Ryan.

"He told you?"

"Of course he didn't tell us, but it didn't take a genius to figure out something happened when he came back from seeing you and he's got a black eye and a busted cheek bone. Now, you've escaped from prison and made Ryan an accessory after the fact!"

Trey looked down at his canvas runners as Sandy's words hit home. And then he did what he always did when cornered. He fought back.

"I don't know what you want with Ryan, but he's **my** brother. **My** family…I'll look out for him." Trey growled.

Ryan's head snapped up.

"Trey… What the fuck?"

"You took him with you to steal a car. You call that looking out for him?" Sandy shot back, instantly regretting his tone, but not the words. He had no intention of fighting with Trey. His main concern was Ryan's safety.

"Gimme the phone." Ryan snatched the phone out of Trey's hand and watched him stalk off to the edge of the pier, leaning on the edge of the rail, looking out at the turbulent waves. He heard Sandy as soon as he brought the phone up.

"Look Trey… I'm sorry…"

"It's me…" Ryan said quietly.

"Where are you?" Sandy forced himself to stay calm.

"We're at the pier, um, Balboa… Sandy, I'm,uh…"

"I know and believe me when I tell you we'll **talk** about this later, but right now we need to figure this out.

"He wants to go back…"

"He what?" Sandy had heard what Ryan said, but he was having trouble processing it.

"Trey… he…. He didn't plan this… you know…. He just…. We need your help."

This was the first time he'd asked the Cohen's for help. After a year and a half, Sandy realized this was the first time Ryan had asked for anything.

"You know I'll do everything I can. I'll have to make a couple of phone calls first and then I'm coming to get you. You two stay put. I'll be there in about 45 minutes okay? Just sit tight. I'll see you soon…"

_I love you. _

Three words left unspoken.

Ryan pulled out another cigarette and lit it before walking over to his brother and offering him the rest of the pack. Trey lit his own.

"He seemed pretty pissed at me."

Ryan's non-committal shrug answered for him.

"What's going to happen now?"

"He'll be here soon. Said he's going to make some calls…"

The brothers watched as the waves crashed into the pilings with a growing intensity, violently swirling around the large logs. The skies were greying and the wind was picking up. Nature was providing the visual backdrop for the feelings that were going through their minds. This would be the last time they'd spend time together without the confines of fences and barbed wire for a long while.

Sandy hung up the phone and gathered his thoughts. He felt Kirsten's arms enfold him.

"He's okay…" He whispered.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The pier was deserted except for the two brothers that stood, watching the ocean.

"I guess I fucked things up for you with the Cohens…"

"It's okay…. I'll be grounded for a while… have to watch Stallone movies with Sandy…"

Ryan smiled at the look Trey gave him.

"The Cohens are a little weird. Me or Seth get into trouble and we gotta spend time with the 'rents."

Trey raised his eyebrows at Ryan's referral to the Cohens as parents. Ryan looked down, embarrassed by his slip.

"It's okay bro. From the way Cohen came down on me, it's pretty clear he cares."

"Yeah… I got lucky…"

"So did they… Don't ever forget that."

As they waited for Sandy in a comfortable quietness punctuated only by the sounds of the raging water, they were unaware they were being watched.

5:27 PM

Sandy breathed a sigh of relief when he hung up the phone again. Kirsten had been holding Ryan's wrist cuff, absently playing with the edges. She looked up expectantly.

"As far as the feds are concerned Ryan's not going to be charged as an accessory. They're going to want to talk to him, but they're more interested in getting Trey back. I'm meeting them down by the pier…"

Kirsten picked up Sandy's keys.

"I'm coming with you… Let's go get our kid…"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The Balboa pier employed a security firm to help keep its citizens safe and protected from the outside world. Private cops licensed by the county to carry weapons. The majority of officers were retired police, looking to supplement a comfortable pension. Unfortunately there was always one or two who viewed this type of work as a stepping stone to a law enforcement career.

Jeff Costello was one of these.

The wannabe cop watched as the two young men leaned against the railing, looking out into the Pacific. The taller one matched the police print out of an escaped felon.

The shorter one? He didn't match any descriptions, but if he was with the other than he was going down as well.

This was going to be his ticket to the big leagues.

The rain had started pouring just as Sandy and Kirsten pulled into a parking lot. Agents Torres and Fielding met up with them.

"Mr. and Mrs. Cohen… We'd like to get this done as quickly as possible. We'll need you to stay here and we'll bring Ryan to you." Agent Fielding stated in a clipped voice.

Sandy shook his head.

"No… Since Trey Atwood is turning himself in, I'm going to be there as his attorney when you take him into custody. He and Ryan are on the pier. There's no where for him to go."

The two agents looked at each other. Agent Torres nodded.

"Okay… we'll do it your way." He said, looking at Sandy.

Sandy flipped open his phone and dialed Ryan's cell.

_You better answer it this time, kiddo._

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Trey was now sitting on the railing, his back to the ocean. Ryan still stared out at the water.

"Wanna get out of the rain?"

Trey shook his head.

"Nah… It's gonna be a while before I feel it again… Guess you're still hauling' my ass out of trouble… It should have been the other way around… I should have been protectin' you…"

Ryan stepped back and looked at his brother.

"We looked out for each other."

The muffled ringing of his cell phone interrupted the brotherly moment. He pulled it out of his pocket and opened it.

"Hello?"

"Ryan… I'm glad you figured out how to answer your phone." Sandy's voice softened. "The feds are here for Trey… I'm coming up with them."

Ryan swallowed several times before he could respond.

" 'Kay… Thanks again Sandy…"

"I'll be there in a minute… Sit tight…"

"**FREEZE…..GET YOUR HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM…"**

Ryan looked up to see a rent-a-cop, his gun drawn.

"Ryan… What the hell is going on?" Sandy yelled into the phone as he broke into a run, Torres and Fielding on his heels.

A gun shot.

Agent Torres tackled Jeff Costello before he had a chance to fire off a second round.

Sandy was still several yards away and could only watch as Trey fell off the railing.

He was still shouting as he watched Ryan jump in after his brother.


	5. Chapter Five

Ah hell, just make up your own disclaimers.

Chapter Five

Agent Fielding made sure his partner had the shooter under control and then ran to restrain Sandy. Struggling to keep the desperate man from jumping into the ocean.

"**RYAN!"** Sandy screamed as he fought off the FBI Agent. The men slid on the rain slicked pier, landing hard on the wooden walk way. Sandy twisted out of the man's grasp, running to the edge where Ryan and Trey had gone over. Fielding got to his feet just as Sandy plummeted.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Kirsten watched as her husband and the two Agents made their way to where Ryan and his brother were.

Other brother.

Not Seth.

Trey.

One of the last ties to Ryan's past.

A past that didn't include them.

The past he didn't like to talk about and the one she hated to think about.

The sound of a gun.

It's discharge echoing back to where she waited. Breaking into a run towards the sound, she then stopped in horror as she saw first one, then another and then a third fall over the side of the pier.

A scream tore from her throat as she watched the scene that played out 900 feet from where she stood. Kirsten willed herself to move, changing directions and running to the beach instead.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The force of slamming into the water left Ryan gasping for air as he surfaced from the churning water.

"**TREY!"** Was all he managed to yell before a wave sent him crashing into a piling. He ignored the pain on the right side of his head as he pushed himself away from the pillar, fighting with the liquid forces that kept him from finding his brother.

"TREY!" A scream of desperation, no louder than a whisper, the salty water filling his mouth and nose, dragging him beneath the frigid blanket.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Seth read the note left for him on the counter. Quick and to the point.

_Gone to pick up Ryan. Be home soon. Order pizza. Love Mom._

Pizza and parental wrath. Friday night fun at the Cohen's. Might as well run some PS2 before the party starts.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Years of surfing and living by the ocean had not prepared Sandy for the battle it put forth. The rain pelted him. The wind roared. The waves tried to pull him under.

He tread water, listening, straining to hear a response to his frantic calling of Ryan's name.

The current pulled him further under the pier, into its maze of wooden posts. He stopped struggling against it, instead letting the force of the waves propel him forward.

"**RYAN!"** Sandy willed himself to stay calm. To listen hard, when every fiber of his being screamed for his son.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Kirsten ran to the shore line, frantically scanning the frenzied swells for any sign of Sandy or Ryan. Sandy was a strong swimmer, but Ryan?

She didn't know. Just assumed he could swim well enough.

After a year and a half there were still too many unknowns about her new son. Things she should have known.

Kirsten was vaguely aware of the controlled chaos around her. Sirens growing louder. The sound of a rescue boat getting closer.

Voices surrounding her.

Reassuring.

Supportive.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ryan managed to break through the surface, simultaneously spitting sea water and fighting to draw a breath, choking as the brine re-entered his throat, filling his lungs.

"TREY!"

Lips moving silently.

Eyes closing.

Darkness calling.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A strangled cough.

Sandy was sure that's what he heard. Turning his head just in time to see Ryan slip below the churning water.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Hey Seth…. How's Ryan? Can I talk to him?"

_Lindsay….Shit… Oh yeah… He told her Ryan was sick…At least he hoped that's what he told her._

"Uh, Ryan's out with Mom and Dad…" _Keep it ambiguous. The verbal equivalent of stealth. He was all about the subterfuge._

"Ooooo-kay. I guess he's feeling better. I'm going to come over later…"

"**NO! **You can't…" Seth spoke rapidly, his mouth working faster than his brain. "He's uh…. Going to be doing laundry. Yeah, uh… That's where he is now… Buying Tide… Lots of it … for the … for the …vortex of vomit. Yes, that's right… Puddles of puke all over the place. Not a pretty sight. I think tomorrow's little visit to Six Flags will have to be rescheduled, all righty then? Great. He'll call you Sunday. 'Bye **Aunt** Lindsay…"

Seth hung up. Leaving Lindsay wondering how much of her nephew's formative years were spent wearing a helmet.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sandy struggled to keep Ryan's head above the waves that battered them. He fought against the lifeguards, instead, locking his fingers, unwilling to relinquish the boy.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Gentle hands kept Kirsten from running towards the bedraggled group that neared the sand. She jerked free and ran to Sandy, falling to her knees beside him as he collapsed on the beach.

"Ryan…" He mumbled, dragging himself to where the EMT's and life guards surrounded Ryan.

Mottled grey skin. Lips stained blue.

Kirsten held her husband.

A deafening silence from the one they needed to hear the most.

A chest compression.

A breath blown in.

Soundless.

A chest compression.

A chest compression.

A chest compression.

A breath blown in.

Motionless.

Another chest compression.

Another chest compression.

Another chest compression.

Another breath blown in.

Lifeless.

One more chest compression.

One more chest compression.

One more chest compression.

One more breath blown in.

A struggle for air.

A painful expulsion of salty liquid.

A ragged gasp.

Air. Expel. Gasp. Repeat.

Repeat.

Repeat.

An anguished whisper.

"Trey…"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

8:01 PM.

Seth's eyes focused on the road. It had taken less than 90 seconds to pull out of the driveway after his mother called. He resisted the urge to drive faster than the posted speed limit.

Instead he counted.

First by 4's, then by 7's.

Two blocks from HOAG he started on the Jewish Holidays.

Rosh Hashana.

Yom Kippur.

Sukkoth.

Simhat Torah.

Hanukah.

Purim.

Pesach.

Lag b'Omer.

Shavuot.

Tishah b'Ab.

Parking.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Kirsten rubbed Sandy's back and then smoothed the thermal blanket that covered his shoulders. Hospital issue pajamas replaced his wet clothes.

They sat in a hospital exam room.

Waiting. Again.

8:18 PM.

Seth found his parents and the waiting continued.

8:47 PM.

Dr. Connell cleared her throat before she drew back the curtains of the room where the Cohens sat, lost in thought.

"Mr. and Mrs. Cohen? I'm Dr. Connell… I've been treating Ryan…"

"How…?" Sandy's eyes were pleading.

She sat down in a chair.

"He's awake… Pretty banged up, though. He sustained a minor concussion, cuts, abrasions and some impressive bruises. We're monitoring Ryan for respiratory distress. He's experiencing some wheezing and the chest x-ray showed some fluid and silt in his lungs. Right now he's on supplemental 0/2. That being said, barring any complications, you should be able to take him home tomorrow afternoon, and yes… you can see him. Exam room 5. It'll be a few hours before we move him into a room…"

She smiled at the family before leaving them.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ryan had been conscious, semi-reclined, an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth and over a dozen sensors attached to his chest when they saw him. Bruises started to colour his face, chest and arms. A bandage over his right eye hid the 15 stitches.

"Trey?" A painful, raspy voice asked. He wouldn't even look at the Cohens, keeping his head turned away, staring at the curtains that surrounded the cubicle.

"They're still looking for him…" Sandy said gently.

Ryan closed his eyes, unresponsive to everything around him.

10:43 PM.

Kirsten touched Ryan's hair. Hair stiffened by sea water. A reminder of the day's events. His eyes were closed but he still flinched at her touch. Sighing, she sat back in her chair.

She had finally convinced Sandy and Seth to go home. Sandy was exhausted mentally and physically. Kirsten hoped he'd be able to sleep. The fact that it could have easily been Ryan missing haunted her. Every time she closed her eyes she saw bodies falling into the ocean.

Seth's face had replaced Trey's.

All of them disappearing forever.

But it wasn't about her.

It was about the boy lying in a hospital bed.

Closing himself off.

Retreating.

Grieving for the loss of a brother.

Grief Kirsten knew he wouldn't share with them.

Listening to the harsh, ragged breathing.

Wishing she could hold Ryan in her arms.

Tell him it was okay, that she would make it better.

A kiss on his forehead to take the pain away.

If only it could be that simple.


	6. Chapter Six

I have to dedicate this chapter to **Connell**. She may never speak to me again, so this is the least I could do for her.

All mistakes are to be blamed on **ctoan**, since she was pushing so hard for a _timely_ update. I had this ready to post last night, but computer difficulties left me unable to do so until this morning. That's her fault as well. She harassed me so much yesterday that my poor Samsung froze up….

Here we go,

Chapter Six

Saturday, 12:19 AM

Sandy absently swirled the amber coloured, 15 year old Laphroig in his glass. Despite the Tivo'd Daily show, he was unable to stop himself from replaying yesterday. His hands were still shaky, the tips of his fingers still numb from holding so tightly to Ryan, refusing to surrender him. His arms were sore. A heavy corduroy jacket and black boots acted as anchors, weighing the boy down.

How close they all came to losing Ryan.

One of their own.

"You okay…?"

Sandy looked up.

"No…"

Seth sat down beside his dad.

"Wanna talk?"

A grim look. The burning as the scotch hit the back of his throat. A quick shake of his head.

"C'mon… I thought lawyers loved to talk…"

Fingers tracing the rim of the glass.

Seth tilted his head and ducked down, trying to maintain eye contact.

"Thoughts percolating… words forming…"

"Seth I can't… Not yet…"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

2:47 AM

Ryan listened to Kirsten's soft breathing. He wished she would have left with Seth and Sandy. She shouldn't be here babysitting him. He wanted to be alone.

The harsh choking sound that ripped through Ryan jolted Kirsten out of her sleep. She leaned forward and rubbed his back, feeling his body spasm as he struggled to catch his breath. Whispering soft words of encouragement, she continued to run her hand up and down his back, waiting for the painful episode to end.

Dr. Connell had warned them that Ryan would experience violent coughing for several days as his lungs tried to rid themselves of sediment. Kirsten went to the other side of the bed and readjusted the oxygen mask that had been pushed aside and placed it back over Ryan's nose and mouth. She crouched down, looking at the boy who had refused to make eye contact with them after asking about Trey, instead, rolling onto his side and staring at the wall, heartbroken and withdrawn.. She kissed his bruised cheek, looking into his eyes before he closed them again.

"Get some sleep, sweetie, I won't leave you…"

" 'Kay," he whispered, his voice muffled by the mask. Drifting off, he was grateful Kirsten stayed with him.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

8:16 AM

Sandy threw down the newspaper.

Front page news.

Details of yesterday, displayed for all.

Less about the possible death of a young man.

More about sensationalism, crafted to sell the maximum amount of papers.

Death for profit.

All incoming calls sent to voicemail.

The gated community kept reporters out, but the gauntlet would still have to be run.

A mother still needed to be found and informed . A father.

A son to be brought home.

Protected.

"Sandford…"

Shit. The gauntlet came to him. Caleb's timing left a lot to be desired.

"Caleb… What can I do for you?"

Caleb Nichol tossed the Orange County Register at his son in law.

"I told you that boy was nothing but trouble."

"C'mon Cal. Seth stealing your car? He actually just borrowed it… Trying to impress a girl…"

"Don't be glib Sandy, you know I'm talking about that criminal…"

Sandy cut him off.

"I'm going to go out on a limb and assume you're talking about Ryan. I'm going to say this one time. Back the hell off. You've made it clear how you feel about him and guess what? I don't give a damn. Ryan's not going anywhere. He **is** a member of **this** family. What happened with Trey is none of your business…"

"Kirsten and Seth **are my** business…

"Maybe that's the problem… Try treating them as your daughter and grandson…"

Sandy ushered his father in law to the door, holding it open for him.

"Always a pleasure seeing you Cal… Thanks for coming out. I'll give Ryan your love." He snarked, closing the door.

Caleb stared at the mahogany door. Why couldn't they see that boy would ruin them. Everything **he'd** worked for. Ryan wasn't a part of the family. He'd put up with Sandy, but he'd be damned if he'd allow a felon to take advantage of his daughters.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

8:41AM

Ryan lay listlessly as Dr. Connell ran her stethoscope over his chest and back.

"Can you cough for me?"

He gave her a "what the fuck" glare. He had been hacking all night and now the doctor wanted him to do it voluntarily? But as the Atwood luck dictated, yet another round of violent coughing started. Kirsten pushed him upright as Dr. Connell held an emesis basin under his mouth, catching the pink froth expelled from his mouth. Kirsten fought her own panic at seeing the blood tinged sputum. As soon as Ryan was able to stop coughing, the doctor quickly removed the kidney shaped bowl from his sight and handed him a towel. Kirsten gently wiped his mouth, folding the soiled linen and placing it on the small basin before she let him lean back against the pillows.

"Not quite what I had in mind, but I won't ask you to do it again…" Dr. Connell smiled at Ryan, hoping to put him at ease. Pouring a glass of water and holding it out to her patient, she waited for him to give it back to her before she tried to reassure them.

"I know it's a little scary when you cough like that, but really, it's just your body working to clear out your lungs…"

"But what about…" Kirsten added softly, nodding to the blue bowl.

"That's to be expected. Ryan's throat is irritated. It's nothing to worry about. Some Chloraseptic should help with the pain. No lozenges though, you could end up aspirating one into your lungs. It's not a whole lot of fun when that happens."

Ryan closed his eyes and stopped listening. The constant coughing and struggle to breathe afterwards exhausted him.

At least when it happened it gave him respite from the dreams.

A reprieve from seeing Trey fall, disappearing into the water.

A timeout from the guilt of letting his brother drown.

He felt Kirsten wipe away the single tear that escaped from underneath tightly closed eyelids. Once the oxygen mask was slipped over his mouth and nose again, Ryan curled over to his side, shutting himself off form the outside world.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Seth tried to stay under his dad's radar. He overheard the verbal exchange between his dad and grandfather. After Caleb left, he unfolded the newspaper and read the article. He picked up both copies of The Register and dumped them in the recycling bin.

Sighing, he meandered out to the pool house, ostensibly to pick out some clothes for Ryan to wear home from HOAG.

The room was a mess.

At least by Ryan's standards.

Comfortably lived in by his own.

Seth started cleaning up, straightening the disarray. He rummaged through the obsessively neat closet, pulling out sweats and a grey hoodie to take to the hospital and another pile of clothes to take to the guest room where Ryan would undoubtedly be spending the next few weeks.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sandy rubbed his forehead as he waited on the phone.

"Torres…"

"Agent Torres? Sandy Cohen…"

"Mr. Cohen… How is your son?" This time, there was no sarcasm used on the words "your son.".

"Ryan's doing as well as can be expected, all things considering. I'll be bringing him home later today. I'd like to ask that you wait until tomorrow to question him. Come by the house later in the morning?"

"That will be fine. We'll be there at 11 am. At this point, it's just a formality…"

"The search for Trey?" Sandy hesitated.

"It's been called off." Torres answered. "We'll close the case once we speak with Ryan."

Sandy understood the implication of the search ending. Trey was now considered dead. The fed's would notify Roger Atwood. He mumbled his thanks and replaced the handset.

Within seconds, the phone rang.

Call display.

Unknown name. Unknown number.

Straight to voicemail.

He turned off the ringer.

The silence in the house was unnerving.

Sandy left his office, nearly running over Seth.

"What's all this?"

Seth peered over the pile of clothing.

"Um, a pre-emptive strike? I figured you and Mom are going to keep Ryan captive in the guest room for a while and since Ryan likes to study naked because it's a Chino thing, I thought clothing should be mandatory at all other times…"

Sandy shook his head as he opened the door to the guestroom. Seth put the clothes on the bed.

"Thanks dad. This whole physical labour thing is highly over-rated. I'm shvitzing already… I think I need a shower and some sustenance. Perhaps waffles at the Country Club?"

"You hate the Club… I hate the Club…"

Seth grinned. His father could be so clueless.

"This is true, oh parental one. But what is it about the Club we despise so much? It's elitist? True. It's private? Even more true. Buuuuuuut, if it's private and elitist, guess who can't join us for breakfast? We could refuel without the vultures circling overhead…"

Sandy thought for a moment.

Yeah, but, we'd still be the topic of conversation, or rather, Ryan would and I don't know if I could sit there without punching someone…"

Seth crossed his arms and quirked an eyebrow. Shit, that hurt, he'd have to practice that a little more.

"I hate to tell you this, but we've been the topic of conversation ever since you and Mom got together. That whole "you married mom for money thing. Putting the community in danger by bringing a kid from the 909 into the family. Grandpa marrying Julie Cooper. Grandpa getting arrested. Julie still married to Grandpa. Aunt Lindsay. Julie still, still married to Grandpa, not to mention the party you and Mom threw for Jimmy Cooper pretty much sucked…" This just gives them something else to talk about."

Seth could see his father digesting what he had just said.

"Okay, you've talked me into it."

"Well, Alex has told me I'm a cunning linguist… Oops, my bad… A little slip of the tongue…"

He patted his dad on the shoulder as he walked past him, counting the seconds….

"SETH EZEKIAL!"


	7. Chapter Seven

I sent this to **storymom** last night, but seeing that her eyes must have frozen at the sight of **BMcK** lounging shirtless and rendered her immobile, she hasn't given me her opinion on this chapter. Oh well. Yes it's choppy. Intentionally so.

Josh… You. Me. Lawyers. An exchange of cash. Call me. Until then? Still yours.

12:53 PM

Sandy winced as the bruises on the chest, back and arms were displayed while Ryan struggled to pull a t-shirt over his head. He had waved off all offers of help getting dressed, but Sandy refused to leave the room, instead, waiting on the opposite side of the bed while a battle was waged with American Eagle. The start of another coughing spasm brought him to the boy's side, holding a towel underneath his chin. Darkened phlegm discoloured the sterile hospital white.

"It's okay… Spit it out… Almost done…"

Gentle reassurances.

Sandy disposed of the towel, throwing it in the linen bag in the corner of the room. He poured some water; after a few seconds placed the empty glass on the beside table. There was no objection as Sandy knelt down, rolled socks, twisted on a pair of Nikes, tied laces.

A small gesture.

One that left him wishing he could do more.

Dr. Connell entered several moments later, trailed by Kirsten and Seth.

"Well, I can see someone's eager to get out of here…"

No response from Ryan. Sandy caught a glimpse of the look in his eyes before he lowered them, choosing instead to stare at the floor.

It was a look of defeat.

The same look after a 16 year old realized he had been abandoned by his mother.

Choosing a violent, drunken boyfriend over him.

Leaving _him_.

A few words, hastily scratched out.

Rejection.

Sandy placed a hand on Ryan's knee and forced a smile. "I think we're all ready."

The Cohens and Dr. Connell discussed Ryan's homecare.

Clindamycin and Aztreonam. 3 times daily. 14 days.

Possible complications.

Pneumonia.

Seth watched as his brother remained oblivious to it all. Locked in his own world. He couldn't understand why. Trey had left Ryan to fend for himself against Dawn and her boyfriends. Nearly got **his** brother killed last year. Seth knew the details. The stolen car… The beat down.

The worry that Gattas might find him in Newport and finish what he started. Ryan had been wound up for weeks after that…

A **talk** with Captain Oats was definitely in order.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

2:10 PM

Sandy pulled the Range Rover into the garage. He sent up a quick prayer for some other scandal to materialize. One that would keep long range camera lenses from invading their privacy.

A news crew at the hospital waiting unsuccessfully as the family was escorted out a service entrance.

He and Kirsten led a drowsy Ryan up to the guest room, drawing the covers, laying him back against a pile of pillows. Runners were quickly pulled off, blankets replaced.

They listened to the laboured, wheezy breathing for a few minutes before they left the room, leaving the door open.

_Darkness curled around him. _

_Constraining._

_Arms and legs, unable to move._

_Sinking. Struggling for air._

_Water invading. Solidifying in his lungs. Pulling him deeper._

_Fractured light puncturing the pitch black._

_Trey._

_Accusing._

_Condemning._

_Arms reaching. Ready to drag him down._

_Further entrenched in guilt._

_Suffocating._

Jagged, harsh breaths.

Noisy gasps.

Chest heaving.

Reality.

Ryan looked around. The room was slowly coming into focus. He tried to control his breathing, praying it wouldn't turn into another coughing fit.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Slow.

Measured.

Deep.

Refractory memories of yesterday.

Trey…

**His** fault.

**He** should have tried harder.

Done more.

Anything.

Instead, **he** had abandoned Trey.

Left him.

Ryan had something in common with Dawn after all.

Pushing himself off the bed, stumbling into the washroom.

Locking the door.

Desperate to escape from himself.

Ryan struggled to bring air into his constricted chest. He slid down against the marble wall, the stone cooling his fevered cheeks.

Lungs screaming.

Starving.

Pounding.

The cough tore his throat, strangling him.

More pounding.

Voices calling him.

_Trey._

Fading to black.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

4:16 PM

Sandy slid his Diner's Club card between the lock and the doorjamb. Opening the washroom door, he picked up Ryan, holding him upright, over his shoulder, hitting the boy's back, trying to disgorge the substance keeping the breath from him.

He felt warm stickiness soak through as Ryan deposited the foreign matter on his shirt.

A shuddering gasp.

Another involuntary offering of bile saturating the navy blue jersey.

Kirsten knelt down beside them. She listened as Ryan breathed, the grating sound filling his oxygen deprived lungs.

Again.

Struggling.

Again.

Easier.

Again.

Deeper.

Again.

Rhythmic.

Again.

Reflex.

Sandy carried him back to bed. A damp cloth bathing the pale face. They lingered once more, this time taking in the steady, unobstructed sounds.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sunday, 7:28 AM

Seth waited impatiently for the coffee maker to finish, convinced that using the "sneak a cup" feature would upset the delicate yin/yang balance of the Brazilian blend. Finally, he was able to pour himself a mug, blowing across the top before tentatively taking the first sip.

Chi.

A-_chi_-evement.

Damn, he should stop watching the Tantric Yoga videos with Alex. Um, no…. He doubted he could "heel" his inner "down drop dog".

He wandered down the hall, looking in on his parents. They were snuggled together. Seth swallowed a little bit of imaginary vomit. He preferred to think of his own conception as "immaculate", thus preventing images of well… images of what no teen wants to imagine his parents doing.

He thought of announcing his presence but self-preservation took over, remembering hearing them checking in on Ryan several times during the night. He definitely remembered their detour into his room and how he'd quickly rolled onto his side, finding a new home for his hand.

Backing from the door way, Seth instead went upstairs to the guest room. First knocking softly, he opened the door. Ryan was propped up by several large pillows, his head turned to the side, eyes still closed. As Seth moved closer, he was surprised when Ryan turned and looked at him.

"Hey… uh, good to see you awake…"

Ryan focused on the light green mug in Seth's hand.

"That for me?"

Ryan's voice had been reduced to a coarse whisper.

"Yeah…" He waited until Ryan sat up before handing him his coffee.

"Where's yours?" He rasped, desperately trying to pretend everything was fine.

Normal.

Just another day.

When Seth left to procure another cup of caffeine, Ryan took a sip, wincing as the warm liquid came in contact with his raw throat. He struggled to swallow. Finally succeeding, he stood up, walking on shaky legs and closing the washroom door behind him.

He mechanically went about his business.

Auto pilot.

He caught a glimpse of his pale, bruised face in the mirror.

A reminder that it wasn't just another day.

He fought a mental battle to keep fresh memories buried.

His reflection stared back at him.

Accusing.

Ryan closed his eyes, willing the images away.

Opening his eyes. He was met with Trey's face.

Closing his eyes again.

Shattered glass.

Trey was gone.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Seth came back with another coffee, only to find the room empty.

"Ryan?"

"Yeah…."

The washroom door opened and Seth watched as Ryan picked up pieces of broken mirror. He bent down to help.

"Don't..."

"You're bleeding…"

Ryan stopped and stared at his knuckles. Trickles of blood ran down the back of his hand.

"I'll get mom…"

Shaking his head, Ryan didn't look up from his bleeding fist.

"I'm gonna take a shower… I'll clean up…"

Closing the door on Seth.

Locking himself in.

Turning on the water, waiting until steam filled the room before stepping in the enclosure.

He closed his eyes tightly as his aching body was pelted with hot water.

Burning.

Stinging.

He reached for the soap.

Scalding.

Scrubbing.

Unable to wash away his guilt.


	8. Chapter Eight

Blah, blah legal-cakes.

Chapter Eight.

Sunday 2:05 PM

Sandy stepped back and admired his handiwork. He hesitated for a moment before bringing the hammer down on the strike plate one more time, finally satisfied that the piece of metal was sufficiently damaged so as not to allow the washroom door to lock or even close properly. He walked back to the garage, his footsteps echoing off the walls.

Seth had gone off to find solace in Alex's company. Kirsten had set up shop out on the patio. Worksheets were spread out on the table, largely ignored as she kept an eye on the pool house where Ryan had sequestered himself after his meeting with the FBI.

He had rebuffed their attempts to help bandage his bleeding knuckles, instead murmuring an apology for the broken mirror. Kirsten and Sandy stood by helplessly as Ryan moved past them and sought refuge in a house made of glass.

At least Sandy had the foresight to **"fix"** the locks in the pool house first. It was a good thing he had his legal career to fall back on.

Cohens and tools?

He was lucky he didn't lose an eye.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ryan lay back against a mound of pillows, burying the painful memories away in his mind.

Trey.

Falling.

The ocean.

Icy.

Puking on Sandy.

Those pictures were clear.

Fuck.

He hurled on Sandy. Not once, but twice. He hadn't done that since… well…

_Alone in his room he lay curled on the floor._

_Trey picking him up, telling him it would be okay._

_Trey, trying to get him to the washroom when he said he didn't feel so good._

_Trey, wearing partially digested Alpha-ghetti on his favourite shirt._

_Trey, cleaning him up. Telling him again, it was okay. It would all be okay._

Trey was wrong.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Caleb poured himself a bourbon, normally not his beverage of choice, but he'd be damned if he'd waste his Glenfidditch on the greasy reporter sitting in his office.

He handed Bob O'Reilly a glass.

"Thanks" nodded the reporter. "And thanks again for talking with me. You're daughter and her husband have that kid locked away in that house of theirs…"

"All the more reason why I'm giving this interview. Kirsten and Sandy have their hands full controlling the boy…"

O'Reilly adjusted the volume on his micro-recorder and picked up his pen and notebook. Caleb glared at the man. Bob smiled uneasily at the most powerful man in Newport.

"Don't worry… Everything said here will be attributed to an unnamed source… Your name will stay out of this…"

Caleb nodded and continued.

"The boy has been living off the kindness of my daughter and her husband after his mother threw him out. They've provided him with an education, a roof over his head, clothes, money… How does he repay my family? He burned down a showcase home for a new development. He trashed a car, was involved in a shooting where a **_good_ **friend of **_my_** grandson was shot. He was responsible for the drug overdose of **_my_** step-daughter. He was caught breaking and entering into his school, suspended… Got a girl pregnant…"

Caleb drew a breath.

"He's taken everything my family has given him and thrown it back in their face. His brother escaped from jail. Ryan was helping him get away when the security guard found them…"

"The police report indicated Trey Atwood was unarmed and was going to turn himself in…"

Caleb gulped the last of his drink.

"That's the story the boy told…"

"You don't believe it?"

He leaned in, staring down the journalist.

"Ryan Atwood has been nothing but trouble since the day my son-in-law brought him home. He's a liar and a thief and has managed to con my family. The so called system has failed to protect them and the citizens of Newport Beach. He **should** be in jail… Where **he** belongs.."

As O'Reilly scribbled furiously on his yellow pad, Caleb smiled and poured himself another bourbon, enjoying the warmth as it slid down his throat.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ryan sipped from a bottle of water, holding the cold liquid in his mouth for a few moments before swallowing, trying to numb the burning sensation. The coughing had subsided somewhat. No longer was he held hostage to the wracking spasms that threatened to expel an inner organ. Now he only coughed sporadically.

Deep, wet coughs.

He paced, restlessly. The walls were closing in on him. The Cohens worried, always hovering nearby.

He could see Kirsten through the blinds… Watching… Pretending to work.

He didn't deserve their concern.

The feds were in the Cohen's house because of him.

Reporters staked out just beyond the gates leading into the community.

Kirsten and Sandy were trying to protect him.

Protect.

That was **his** job.

Fuck.

He had to get out of the hamster cage. The mental wheel he was running on was getting him nowhere.

Kirsten glanced at her watch. 2:30 and Ryan had yet to emerge from the pool house. She gathered up her paperwork and retreated to the kitchen. Opening a drawer, she quickly looked through it, pulling out what she needed.

This had gone on long enough.

She was going to fight dirty if she had too.

Dialing the phone, she tapped an unmanicured finger on the granite counter top.

"Under the Sombrero… How may I help you?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ryan grabbed his grey zip hoodie and quickly scrawled a note. He'd seen Kirsten go into the house. He didn't want to worry them more and he knew he should talk to them, but he couldn't stand to see the look in their eyes.

The last thing he wanted was their sympathy.

He'd fucked up big time and it cost him his brother.

He didn't want to hear words of understanding.

No one could know what it felt like… Knowing **he** was responsible for Trey's death.

Closing the pool house door behind him, he followed the worn path to the private beach.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Alex absently played with Seth's curls and she tried to follow the rabbit path of his monologue. She knew that he'd eventually have to come up for air.

"Soooo…. What do you think?"

Seth lifted his head from her shoulder.

"Alex…?"

Startled, she pulled a little too hard on his hair.

"Yeah, um, this part of the post-coital cuddling doesn't really work for me…"

"Sorry…"

Seth put his head back down.

"Like I was saying, Ryan and Trey weren't really all that close, so why is he so broken up…?"

Seth are you even listening to yourself? Do you know **anything** about Ryan and his brother?"

He sat up, surprised at the sharpness of Alex's voice.

"I know he got Ryan arrested… Talked him into delivering a stolen car to save his own ass… Got him beat up by the guys he delivered the car to…Came to our house after he escaped from jail… Nearly got ** _his_ **brother killed… So yeah, I do know something about Ryan and his brother… His** _other_** brother…"

"Is that what's bothering you? That Ryan **has** a brother?"

Alex was now sitting up as well.

"Yeah… I mean, no… I mean, I always knew he has a brother,**_ had_** a brother… I just, you know, thought **_we_** were brothers…"

"So what? There's a one brother limit…A little full of yourself, aren't you? Seth, you're not making a lot of sense…"

"I'm just saying he's like "Stepford Ryan"… Pretending everything's okay. He won't talk to me… I don't know…"

Seth rolled off the bed and reached for his boxers. Alex looked at him before getting up herself, wrapping the sheet around her.

"You're being an idiot… It's not about you… It's about another member of his family leaving him… Trey is dead… Gone… As much as you're his new family, you can't just wish the old one didn't exist…" She paused and added gently, "Look, I have to grab a shower and go to work… You okay?"

She didn't need this drama in her life. Seth Cohen was supposed to be fun… A diversion. She had enough of her own crap to deal with.

"Yeah… I'll uh, lock the door on my way out…

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

3:15 PM

Kirsten balanced a plate of chipotle chicken quesadillas and a glass of milk as she knocked on the glass door. Getting no answer, she pushed the door open with her hip, a feat made possible by Sandy's ability to wield a hammer.

"Ryan?"

Her eyes fell on a piece of paper placed in the middle of the bed.

Setting the plate down, she picked up the note, hands shaking as she read the 5 words.

_Be back in a while._

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ryan sat on the beach, his fingers absently digging in the sand. He watched as kids chased seagulls, sailboarders and surfers braved the water.

The ocean still held his brother.

One prison exchanged for another.

Only this one meant a life sentence.

No parole.

Kirsten frantically dialed Ryan's cell phone.

A digitally recorded voice.

_The number was out of service._

She remembered his phone, lost in the Pacific.

She needed Sandy.

Despite the note left behind.

A nightmare revisited.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ryan was so focused on watching the waves roll back and forth, he didn't notice the group of boys coming up behind him.

Oblivious to the first insults hurled at him.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sandy had managed to calm Kirsten down. He had a good idea where Ryan was. As he neared the beach, he heard the unmistakable sounds of a brawl.

Running into the fray.

Separating bodies.

Pulling Ryan away from the mob.

Holding him.

Watching as bystanders subdued the other combatants.

Sandy recognized the swarm as the sons of friends, colleagues… Classmates of his sons.

His attention was drawn back to Ryan, his breathing erratic, punctuated by the damnable coughing.

The stitches above his eye, opened, a trail of blood joining with the flow from his nose.

Knuckles split, again.

Bruised, again.

Oozing.

Whispering softly he steered Ryan back to the house.

Sparing a quick glance backwards, he was grateful he found the boy when he did.

Who knows how much more damage Ryan would have inflicted on the others?


	9. Chapter Nine

Hmmmmm. FF hates me. It really, really hates me. I'm okay with that though. I'm not too terribly fond of it either.

My computer is conspiring against me. The whole freaking technological world is ganging up on me…

So, without anymore delays, I bring you…

Chapter Nine.

Monday, 6:45 AM

Kirsten and Sandy were startled to see Ryan enter the kitchen, hair damp, dressed and carrying his bookbag.

"Hey sweetie." Kirsten said uneasily. "You're up early…"

"School…" Ryan's voice was hoarse and scratchy.

Sandy and Kirsten exchanged nervous looks.

"The last few days have been pretty rough… Why don't you take some time…"

"Can't..." Ryan answered as he reached in the fridge for the milk. "Midterms are coming up."

"All the more reason to take a few days…" Sandy continued. "Get some rest…"

Kirsten put Ryan's antibiotics down in front of him and kissed his forehead, surreptitiously checking his fever. He felt abnormally cool to the touch.

"Look, I know what you're trying to do, but it's not going to get any easier if I wait… I **_need_** to go."

As Kirsten looked at Ryan's pale face marred by bruises and the gash she had applied steri-strips to where the stitches had ripped, a feeling of unease gnawed at her stomach.

"Ryan, I don't think…"

He looked at her, his eyes pleading.

"Kirsten… I can't stay here. Always thinking about… Thinking about what happened."

She knew it was wrong.

She shouldn't let him go.

Keep him home. Keep him safe.

But what was right?

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The ride to school was quiet. The media circus outside the gates of the subdivision had thankfully left. Sandy periodically glanced at Ryan. He was staring out the window, his face unreadable. Even Seth was unnaturally subdued, lost in his thoughts.

What Sandy wouldn't give for some mindless chatter…

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Kirsten finished putting on her earrings, grabbed her briefcase and keys to the Range Rover. Closing the door behind her, she reached in the mailbox and retrieved the newspaper, tucking it under her arm to read at the office.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sandy pulled the BMW to a stop in the school parking lot.

"It's not too late to turn back… You and Seth… A day of PS2…"

Ryan shook his head.

"Thanks anyway." He reached for the door handle. "Thanks for understanding." He whispered as he left the car.

"_I don't understand."_ Sandy thought to himself. _"Tell me what's going on inside that head of yours…"_

Seth leaned forward from the back seat.

"I'll go home…"

Sandy cut Seth off with a glare.

"No I won't because what could be better than listening to Ms Freemont drone on about the subjugation of women in "The Handmaid's Tale…"

"Keep an eye on Ryan… He's not as tough as he wants us to believe…"

Seth nodded and got out of the car, waving as his father drove off. He scanned the quad, looking for Ryan. He felt a bump from behind, a reminder from the athletic royalty of his lack of status at Harbour. He then became aware of the whispers, the stares.

It was going to be a long day.

Ryan quickly turned the knob of his lock, pulling on it after the last number. Folded copies of the Orange County Register pelted him as he opened his locker. His jaw clenched and the muscles in his neck stood out as he reached in, grabbed the books he needed, closed his locker and walked away, ignoring the laughter from the throng that had gathered.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

By the end of third period Seth was desperate to escape.

"Seth…"

Lindsay gave Seth a hug.

"I heard what happened. I tried calling all weekend. All I got was your voice mail. Is Ryan okay?

Seth did a half shrug head bobble as he led his "Aunt" to a quiet hallway.

"I thought you guys just finished physics…"

"Ryan wasn't in class…"

"Great… I hope he didn't throw down with the rest of the water polo team…."

Lindsay looked quizzically at Seth. He clarified his statement.

"Yesterday Ryan went to the beach… You know, get some quality brooding in. Nordland and some of his crew thought they'd get into it with him. Stupid jock thought six to one odds would work in his favour."

"Ryan?" She asked, unable to keep the worry from her voice.

"Added some new bruises, opened up the stitches in his head, but he definitely kicked some butt. Are you sure he wasn't in class? He can be very quiet… Stealth even…"

"Seth, he's my lab partner. I think I'd know if he was sitting beside me."

"Shit." Seth ran a hand through his hair.

"What's going on?" Lindsay's tone softened.

"I… I don't know. I mean I do know, but… This whole thing with Trey really messed him up. Ryan… Ryan nearly drowned going in after him. Dad pulled him out of the ocean. Now Trey's dead and Ryan won't talk to us."

"Hey." Lindsay said gently. "He's Ryan… He doesn't talk to anyone…"

"He talks to you."

"Yeah, but not about himself. I don't know anything about Chino or his other family."

Seth thought for a few seconds. "He's got World Lit this period. We'll meet up for lunch after that. Maybe you can talk him into dumping the rest of the day. You can join us at the big house for a little game fest. With the way this day's going, I think Ryan's going to need a friendly face.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ryan slammed the door of his locker, throwing the rest of the newspapers that littered the inside of it into the garbage. Dr. Kim had paged him to her office halfway through history. 25 minutes into the day.

He said nothing as she stuttered through apologies and platitudes, finally suggesting he take a week or so for "bereavement leave".

He didn't need any fucking bereavement leave.

He didn't need a fucking grief counselor.

He needed to be left alone.

To deal with this **his** way.

He had walked out while Dr. Kim was calling Sandy to come and pick him up. By the time she ran to the east wing, Ryan had left the building. She quickly got back to her office and called the Cohen's again, hoping to catch Sandy before he left the house.

Hanging up, she sighed, staring at the pile of messages from "concerned parents" regarding the death of "the boy's" brother. She was tempted to call each and every parent and ask them "which boy"? The school had over 300 "boys" and she had to send away the one that needed to be there the most.

She picked up the phone and took the first "post it" note, punching in the numbers.

Damage control.

Image and prestige untarnished.

That's why they paid her the big money.

Smoke and mirrors.

Delusions of grandeur.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ryan felt his chest tighten as he walked home. He swallowed the urge to cough. Sweat rolled down his back, causing his shirt to cling uncomfortably to his body. Maybe he should have waited for Sandy, but being with Sandy meant talking.

The Cohens were obsessed with words, but he knew, words didn't always mean anything.

_Ryan rummaged through the dirty laundry pile for the cleanest thing he could find. Retrieving a thread bare towel, he clumsily folded the dirty spots to the inside and then grabbed an icepack from the freezer, carefully wrapping it in the scratchy terrycloth. He quietly slipped back into his bedroom, relieved that his foray had gone undetected. _

_He handed the bundle to Trey who gingerly held it to the side of his battered face. Ryan watched as his brother's eye swelled shut. They sat quietly on his bed, their silence speaking for them. Trey lowered his icepack and gently ran his hand up Ryan's left arm, stopping when he felt his little brother flinch. Tears filled the blue eyes but he refused to let them fall. **He** didn't cry anymore. Trey pretended not to notice. He put the icepack back up against his face._

"_Tell the teachers that you wiped out on the way to school. They'll make sure you get your arm fixed…"_

"_What if they don't believe me?" The small voice asked._

"_You were running and you fell. That's all… Happens all the time. Stick to the story and we get to stay together… 'Kay Ry?_

_Trey waited for an answer._

"_Ry… Okay?"_

_The 8 year old nodded._

_The older boy got up from the bed._

"_Go to sleep now…"_

_Ryan lay back and Trey pulled the thin blanket up, tucking it around his shoulders._

"_Love you like a brother, brother…"_


	10. Chapter Ten

Thanks for the reviews and encouragement. Now that **Bethy/reading** updated her fabulous story **"Fathers and Sons"** I can't even kid myself into using that as a petulant excuse for not updating until she does.

Don't sue me Josh or I might be forced to fling bloaty chipmunks at you. My next business venture will be water wings for rodents because I'm getting tired of pulling their swollen carcasses out of the pool skimmers.

I own nothing.

Chapter Ten.

Kirsten's anger built as she finished reading the byline.

Bob O'Reilly.

By the time she was finished with him he'd be lucky if he could find a job writing copy for tv psychics.

The "unnamed source" quoted in the article? There was a special corner in hell reserved for him. She looked up at the knock on her office door.

"Mrs. Cohen? Your father asked me to remind you about the meeting with the shareholders at 11."

Kirsten glanced at the clock on her desk. The one next to the framed pictures of her boys.

Seth, Sandy **and** Ryan.

10:53.

She offered a tight smile to her assistant.

"Thank you Kelly. I'll be there in a minute…"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The first phone call from Dr. Kim pissed him off. The second worried him. Now as Sandy drove towards the Harbour School both emotions battled back and forth. Worry over Ryan's whereabouts gave way to anger at the cause of him leaving school when he saw Ryan on the other side of the road, walking towards home, book bag slung over his shoulder, head down.

For the second time in history, Sandy Cohen defied the GPS lady.

Ryan concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. He struggled to take a full breath, biting back the cough that threatened to bring him down. He stopped walking and bent over, hands on his knees, eyes closed, concentrating on fighting the dizziness that suddenly draped over him.

He wasn't aware of the foot steps behind him.

He barely felt the arms that guided him to the car.

He didn't hear the whispered "let's get you home."

He did know that right now, he wasn't in control anymore.

And that scared him.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

10:58 AM

Kirsten steeled herself as she entered the board room. She nodded politely at the group as she waited for Caleb to finish his hard sell on the proposed new project in Huntington Beach.

Caleb turned his attention to his daughter.

"Wonderful. Now that the CFO is here we can get started… If everyone would take their seats…" He motioned towards the mahogany conference table. Just as he pulled out his own chair, he realized Kirsten hadn't sat down.

"Kiki?"

She apprised him coolly before approaching him. She held up the newspaper.

"Was this worth it?"

Caleb's eyes narrowed.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I would like however, to direct your attention back to our meeting…"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. You've tried everything in your power to tear my family apart."

Caleb shot a nervous glance around the room. The shareholders were listening intently to the verbal exchange.

"This isn't the time or place for this." He whispered forcefully.

That's where you're wrong, dad." Kirsten's voice hardened. "You made it the time and place. You want Ryan out of your life? Done…"

"I knew you'd finally come to your senses Kiki… That boy…"

Kirsten cut him off, thrusting the newspaper at his chest.

"Let me make it clear. Ryan is **my **kid, **my** son and since you can't accept him then it's you loss because **he is** a part of **my** family and we're a package deal. All or nothing. You made your choice…"

She turned to walk out, taking a couple of steps before looking back at her father.

"By the way? I quit…"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

11:41 AM

Seth snapped his phone shut and put it down beside his lunch tray. He looked at Lindsay who had been moving her salad around her plate, making symmetrical piles of organic mesclun mix.

"Dad picked Ryan up. Dr. Kim decided he needed a few days off."

He picked up his tuna melt but then decided he wasn't really that hungry.

"That's a good thing isn't it? I mean you said Ryan wasn't doing very well…"

He shook his head.

"Yeah,… I mean no, he's not, but for whatever reason that made sense to him, he didn't want to be at home… I mean he sounds like he's hacking up internal organs, he looks like shit and I don't know what to do to make it better…"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ryan offered no resistance as Sandy helped him into the guest room. He would have preferred his pool house but maybe if he played the part of the good little boy he'd at least be allowed his solitude.

Get his shit back together.

His way.

Without words.

By himself.

But how do you tell the only people left who give a crap about you that you want to be left the fuck alone?

Sandy disappeared for a few moments and came back holding a bottle of water and some Motrin. He shook out 2 pills and held them out to Ryan who took them passively and settled back on the bed. He flinched as Sandy felt his forehead. Sandy pretended not to notice. Ryan had become used to some physical contact from him in the last 18 months and had even started to return the gestures… A pat on the shoulder, a high five, the Cohen secret handshake…

"Sorry… I uh, I'll bring up some lunch…"

He left the room before Ryan could tell him he wasn't hungry.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Kirsten took a deep breath as she tried to calm herself. Her father could be a real bastard. She'd always known that, but his saving grace had always been his love of family. Now she realized it had less to do with love of family than love of image. She and Sandy had provided the "heir apparent".

The perfect image of the next generation of the Newport Group.

Hailey was the image of their mother and Caleb could deny her nothing.

Lindsay? Caleb would try to twist her into his image. To strip away any part of Renee Wheeler and mould her into all things Nichol.

And Ryan? He didn't fit into her father's world but he damn well fit in hers.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sandy returned to the guest room 20 minutes later, bearing a mug of soup, some crackers and a bottle of juice. He steadied the tray with one hand and opened the door. Ryan pulled himself up, leaning against the headboard. Sandy noted the boy's haggard, bruised face and the uneasiness emanating from him. As he neared the bed, Ryan seemed to regroup, even offering the barest hint of a smile.

"I brought you some of Sophie Cohen's famous soup."

Ryan accepted the mug and peered inside. He looked skeptically at Sandy.

"It's chicken and stars…"

Sandy shrugged and smiled back.

"What can I say? Ma was always working or at a protest march. When I was growing up her cooking skills were limited to Campbell's and Swanson's. She didn't start cooking until she retired."

They sat in an uneasy silence as Ryan finished his soup. Putting his mug down on the bedside table he looked at Sandy and spoke quietly.

"I am dealing with it… everything… Maybe it's not the way you would, but… I'm working through all this shit the best I can… I just need you to trust me…"

Sandy took a moment to absorb what Ryan said. It was the first time the boy had mentioned the incident. Hell, it was the most he'd said in days.

"Okay. We'll follow your lead, but as a compromise, I want you to agree to stay in the guest room until you're feeling better. I know you'd rather be in your room but how about I promise Kirsten and I won't hover… much… very much… too much…."

That was acceptable. Ryan nodded.

" 'kay."

Sandy gathered up the empty mug, preparing to leave.

"Sandy…"

"Yeah kiddo…"

"Thanks for… you know… Trey… me…" Ryan's voice trembled. "All this… I, uh…"

He brushed the hair from Ryan's forehead, pleased when he didn't recoil from the touch.

"I know."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_Ryan struggled through the murky water. Sludge filled his ears and mouth, effectively muzzling him as he screamed for Trey. He could sense his brother, blindly reaching for him. He desperately swam, his lungs burning._

"_Ry… don't leave…"_

_Ryan changed direction. The thick liquid seeping into his skin, weighing him down._

"_C'mon little bro… Stop fucking around…"_

_Sinking further, heaviness crushing him._

"_Help me…"_

_Ryan made a desperate grab, his fingers just reaching…grasping…_

_His arm was viciously twisted behind his back._

"_Useless piece of shit."_

_He stopped struggling at the sound of the only voice he was truly afraid of._

"_Did you really think you could get away, baby boy?"_

_Fingers closed around his throat._

_Choking._

_Constricting._

_Strangling._

_Unseen hands ripped him away. Ryan fought against the new threat._

"Ryan?"

"_Trey?"_

"Ry… dude… You need to wake up…"

Seth reached down and shook his brother's shoulder. Ryan's eyes flew open and he scrambled off the bed, confused, dizzy.

"Chill out Ry…"

He glared at Seth. _Breathe… Slow it down…Just a dream…_

"Don't call me "Ry"…"

"Okay… Okay bro…"

"I'm not **your** "bro"…"

Ryan sat down on the bed, all thoughts of controlled breathing gone. He angrily ran his hand through his hair. Seth sat down as well, keeping a healthy distance.

"I… I'm really sorry about Trey…" When Ryan didn't respond, Seth took that as a sign to continue. "I know what it's like to… you know, lose someone…"

"I don't want to hear about your grandmother."

Ryan spoke in a low, flat monotone. Unfortunately Seth took Ryan's comment as a personal affront, ignoring the figurative neon lights flashing a warning to back off.

"So this is your answer to everything? Ignore it and it'll go away? How's it working for you dude?"

Ryan got off the bed and started to walk away, taking a few steps before turning around. His voice is deceptively calm, despite the quick, shallow intake of air.

"Fuck you Seth. I'm dealing with this the only way I know how. Just because I don't obsess about every fucking detail of my life to whoever will listen doesn't mean I'm not dealing…"

"Hiding from us is dealing? You won't talk to us…" Seth stood up, his own anger building. "You're feeling sorry for yourself…"

Ryan took another step forward, his hands balled into tight fists. Seth involuntarily stepped back, hitting the edge of the bed and falling backwards. Ryan spoke through clenched teeth.

"Feel sorry for myself? You don't have a clue how I feel, so take your happy memories with grandma and shove 'em up your ass."


	11. Chapter Eleven

I was going to wrap up this story, but since I don't have anything else in the works I'm going to follow the rabbit , fall down the hole and end up in Wonderland.

I'm shifting gears a little. Don't be afraid. I can drive a standard. We're going to coast in second for about 1900 words or so. If you need a manual for my mixing of metaphors, sorry, it doesn't exist.

Still don't own the OC or any matching accessories. Smc's matching panties, bras and socks not withstanding.

Let's all think pleasant thoughts, shall we?

Julie? This chapter is angst free. Just for you…

Oh and I borrowed a little from "The Gamble".

Chapter Eleven

Ryan angrily stalked out to the pool house, slamming the glass door behind him. He didn't notice the door bounce open, unable to shut properly, thanks to "Sandy the Tool Man, Cohen".

Fuck. He never should have gotten angry.

To lose what little control he'd regained.

Seth was just being Seth.

_Calm down…Get your shit together…_

He rifled through the wicker basket that held his extensive assortment of boxers.

Boxers that Kirsten bought him.

Boxers that didn't come three in a pack.

Boxers for every fucking day of the month.

Boxers because when his mom threw him out he had nothing.

Excessive amounts of underwear was Kirsten's way of telling him he wasn't going anywhere. He was here to stay.

He found his "emergency" pack of smokes and released it from it's ziploc'd prison, along with an old disposable lighter. Sliding his thumb over the wheel he was satisfied when the spark gave way to a flame.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"**_Fuckfuckfuck"_** Seth screamed silently to himself. "_I'm such an ass clown. Not quite sure why I'm an ass clown… The hair? The nose? Shut up Cohen… Think…."_

He flopped down on his bed and reached for Captain Oats. The plastic horse always listened. Never had much to say though. Kind of like a certain blond brother.

"_So… How do I talk to him without making it about me? I'm trying to be a good brother…I know I'm a little self absorbed… a lot self absorbed, but I'm still trying to figure out this brother thing…It's Mom and Dad's fault for keeping me an only child. For 16 years it was all about me. The 'rent's world revolved around me… Well, sort of, in that workaholic, former hippie, child-centered parenting sort of way. Not exactly what Dr. Spock wrote about…_

_**Thinkthinkthinkthinkthinkthink!**_

Seth accentuated each syllable by smacking the horse into his forehead. He lowered the anatomically incorrect stallion and rubbed the now sore spot.

"_Okay… Creative visualization time… I'm Ryan…" _Helooked down at his brawn challenged body. _"Not helping… Let's try it with my eyes closed… I'm Ryan. A man of few words. I live with Sandy and Kirsten Cohen and their devastatingly good looking son, Seth. My mom dumped me, my dad's in jail, my brother's dead and the story of my life is now being read in washrooms everywhere…**Shit**…I'd probably want to hide out somewhere too."_

Seth paced his room wearing his imaginary, well fitting 'beater.

"**Eu-freaking-rika…**I'm so smart it's scary. This brother thing isn't that hard…"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

5:05 PM

Kirsten loaded the bags in the back of the Range Rover.

Retail therapy.

A Barnes and Noble shopping bag filled with best-sellers she'd now have time to read. A selection of PS2 games.

Splinter Cell Chaos Theory.

A little hand to hand combat with a computer generated opponent that looked remarkably like her father might go a long way to channeling some of her anger.

One of the bags fell over. She quickly shoved the assortment of boxers and socks back in before closing the SUV door. Exiting the parking lot, Kirsten quickly pulled into a favourite Thai restaurant. Minutes later as she waited for the take out order she mused that she now had the time to learn how to cook.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sandy leaned back in his chair, his fingers massaging his temples in an effort to stave his growing headache. He had spent the last hour and a half locked in his office, making arrangements for a memorial service for Trey. He had thought of including Ryan in some of the decisions, but ultimately decided that no 17 year old should have to plan a funeral for his brother.

He had half heartedly tried to arrange for a 2 hour furlough for Roger Atwood, relieved when it had been denied.

Less drama to deal with.

A call to the private investigator hired to find Dawn.

Another brick wall. When she walked out of Ryan's life for the third time, she had decided to make it permanent.

A small miracle to be grateful for.

Pulling himself up, he wandered into the kitchen, hating the heavy silence in the house. It was after 5. There should be the sounds of video games, Seth's non-stop verbal musings, Ryan's dry-humoured comebacks…

The incessant blinking of the phone caught his attention. He scrolled through the messages, erasing the ones from the press. He caught part of one of the messages asking for confirmation that Kirsten Cohen had indeed resigned from the Newport Group. He listened again before deleting it.

Quitting the Newport Group? Other than Kirsten going stir-crazy within a day and a half, it wouldn't be a bad thing.

Maybe now she'd open the gallery she'd always dreamed of.

Before her mother got sick.

Before Caleb brought her into the company.

Before they got sucked into the Newport state of mind.

He wished she was home.

Damn, he was so tired.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ryan leaned against the stucco wall of the pool house. He shook a cigarette out of the battered package and lit it, inhaling deeply. Instead of the calming effect the nicotine usually had, the smoke aggravated his irritated lungs . Exhaling quickly, he endured the deep painful coughing spasm.

_Really, really bad idea._

Finally catching his breath, he ground out his cigarette and closed his eyes, steadying his intake of oxygen.

A forced calm.

Minutes later, he felt himself relax.

Slow, deep breaths.

Feeling a slight breeze on his face, he let the tension wash away from him, slipping away.

_Ryan quickly scrounged around the kitchen looking for something to eat. He abandoned the search when he caught a glimpse of the clock. He grabbed his battered runners and his frayed back pack, quietly closing the door behind him, grateful that his mom's bedroom door stayed shut. Stuffing his feet into his shoes, he winced at the tight fit. Hopefully there'd be something in the lost and found box at school he could borrow. _

_He crossed the road in front of his house, trying to ignore the hunger that chewed at his stomach. Maybe there'd be something decent at school. He thought about the form for the free lunch program he'd copied his mom's signature on. She was too busy or too drunk to sign them. He remembered the look his teacher gave him as she looked over the paper. _

_Forgery was not a talent. _

_He was almost as bad at it as he was lying. _

_Mrs. Walters just gave him a sad smile and said it was fine. _

_It was a smile he grew to hate. _

_The one fraught with sympathy and understanding. _

_No one understood. _

_Not really._

_The sound of shouting snapped him back to reality. Crazy Mr. Cheekymice was yelling at his lawnmower again. Ryan wished he'd stayed on his side of the street. He was hoping that the old man wouldn't notice him._

"_Stupid parte merda io dov prend voi desposito! Vosto madre essere un trattore e vostro padre esser un analizz vibratore!" _(1)

_Ryan was halfway past the house when the man spotted him._

"_Perche voi rid? Voi pens io scimmia faccia?" _(2)

_Ryan stopped, shocked that the old man spoke to him._

"_S-s-s-orry Mr. Chicamicci…"_

_He had no idea what he was apologizing for. It just seemed like a good idea._

_Ryan ran._

_Afraid that Mr. Cheekymice was going to grab him and feed him to his rats._

_At least that's what he'd heard would happen. Who would keep rats as pets anyway? He heard them enough at night, scratching the walls, running between siding and the drywall._

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Seth sat down a few feet from Ryan, careful not to make a sound. Experience gained from camp. Capture the flag at Camp Tuckaho was his one moment of athletic glory and he was determined to fall back on the memory as often as he could. He placed a bottle of juice with reaching distance for Ryan and then settled back, listening to the silence.

Apprehension crept up Ryan's spine as he heard the footsteps.

Seth.

He mentally prepared himself for the verbal barrage that he knew would follow.

He waited for his quiet world to be interrupted.

Nothing.

After a couple of minutes he opened one eye. Seth had taken up position about 5 feet from him.

Just sitting.

Not moving.

Closing his eye again he took a deep breath and floated again.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It had taken every particle of self control Seth could call upon to keep his eyes and mouth shut when he felt Ryan looking at him. He had bit so hard on the inside of his lip he'd drawn blood.

_Chock full of quiet. Chock full of quiet. Chock full of quiet. Chock full of quiet._

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_Ryan took his time walking home, eating the buttered bread he'd saved from lunch. He turned the corner to his street, nervous at what he'd find waiting for him at home. Hopefully mom was still at work. Passing by Mr. Chicamicci's house he noticed the lawnmower still sitting on the lawn, this time with parts scattered around. Curiosity got the better of him as he crouched down and surveyed the carnage. He was so engrossed in the mechanical puzzle he didn't hear the man approach._

"_Che cosa voi?" _(3)

_Ryan jumped back, landing hard on his butt. He quickly scrambled to his feet. He wanted to run but his backpack was on the other side of the lawnmower. He tried to dodge around the man._

"_Non and. Io non danneggi voi…" _(4)

_The hell with his pack. Ryan ran out into the road, not hearing the screech of rubber on the pavement._

_Not feeling the impact._

_Finally not being afraid of the dark._

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

As Kirsten unpacked the take out containers from the Chiang Mai Restaurant, Sandy came up from behind and wrapped his arms around her.

Holding her.

She was his anchor and he was her compass. Without each other he'd find himself adrift in every cause like his mother was, searching for fulfillment and she'd be lost in her father's corporate greed.

"Hope you got some dumplings…" He whispered in her ear.

"And some Tom Yon soup for Seth, Pad Thai for Ryan… And I… quit my job."

Sandy held Kirsten a little tighter.

"Ryan is getting pretty good with chop sticks."

"Sandy? Did you hear me?"

Sandy kissed her neck.

"Soup for Seth, Pad Thai for Ryan and you quit. You know this not going to the office housewife thing…. It's really…."

"Disturbing?"

"Hot… It's disturbingly hot…"

"Remember that when I start renovating."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Note:

Okay, Italian is not my first language. Fuck. Sometimes I wonder if English is. Here are the rough translations for numbers 1-4

Stupid piece of shit. I should take you to the dump. Your mother was a tractor and your father was a broken down vibrator!

Why are you laughing? You think I have a monkey face?

What are you doing?

Don't go. I won't hurt you…


	12. Chapter Twelve

Y'all thought I forgot about this… I know you did. I confess. I've been carrying on a torrid affair with BMcK and it leaves me with absolutely no time to write.

I think I know where I'm going with this story. At least I do right now. Don't ask me tomorrow. I could get lost following my own rabbit path.

Maybe if I get a seeing eye dog….

_Don't own… Don't sue…Don't throw sharp pointy objects…_

Chapter Twelve.

Monday, 7:53 PM

Dinner had been quiet, the silence mildly discomforting. The only sound was the scrape of Seth's spoon or the clatter of chopsticks. Ryan took his Pad Thai for a spin around his plate, the traveling noodles occasionally detouring to his mouth. Sandy and Kirsten did their best not to watch every move he made. Kirsten tried not to count each mouthful he took. It was a small victory that Ryan had even joined them for dinner. She knew his first instinct was still to hide away from all of them, so when Sandy found the boys behind the pool house she was both thrilled and relieved that Ryan had followed.

Sandy excused himself and Kirsten, leaving the boys to clean up. He led his wife to his office, locking the door behind them.

Seth wiped the table as Ryan rinsed the dishes before loading them in the dishwasher. He ran a cloth over the already clean counter. He could feel Seth ready to implode, the self-imposed quiet now manifesting itself into a series of assorted twitches. Ryan knew he should put Seth out of his misery.

"Wanna run a few games?"

Seth exhaled loudly.

"Thank you….Yes…"

He picked up one of the bags his mom brought and looked through the games, quickly putting the Tom Clancy game back. In light of recent events the firing of automatic weapons was not a good plan.

The rest of the games?

Definitely picked out by the Kirsten.

NASCAR? Pirates of the Caribbean? Seth didn't know what was more disturbing. His mom actually thinking he'd play it or his mom having a thing for Johnny Depp.

He held up the selections.

"Uh, dude… we have to make a pact that mom is never allowed to buy games again. This is just wrong… On so many levels…"

Ryan squinted, trying to focus on the boxes Seth waved.

"NASCAR doesn't seem so bad…"

Seth shook his head.

"Ry--an…"

The way Seth enunciated his name made him feel like a bad puppy. Seth continued.

"NASCAR is for the unfortunate inbred population with crimson coloured necks and bad dental hygiene. Instead of being taught their numbers by a puppet vampire like the rest of us, they learned by watching cars driving in circles. Long, boring circles, Ryan. Think Klu Klux Klan and Ollie… It's the real reason the South lost the war…"

"You're comparing "Dirt to Daytona" to the Civil War?

"It's a bit of a stretch… I know that, but trust me, no good can come of this…. I'm feeling the grey matter liquefying just thinking about this…"

"So you'd rather play a game featuring a computer generated actor your Mom has the hots for?"

"NO! Do not go there…. Argh… Visual…. Pointy stick, scissors….Anything…"

Seth dropped the games and covered his eyes, shielding himself from the mental images.

Ryan walked over and picked up the NASCAR game.

"Thought you'd see it my way…"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Kirsten and Sandy went over the plans for Trey's memorial service. There would be no grave side service, just a small gathering at a non-denominational chapel.

No visitation.

No luncheon.

Just an opportunity for good-bye.

It didn't surprise her that Dawn couldn't be found. She knew when Ryan's moth… Dawn walked out 18 months ago she was **_leaving…_**

For good.

She was willing to leave her son one more time… to give him a life she never could.

_She didn't have it in her._

_She couldn't care for anyone else._

_She didn't have what it took._

_She saw the way her son looked at her. Like she could fix anything. She saw the way Ryan looked at her…._

Kirsten remembered those words. She remembered the look of grief on Dawn's face.

The look of sad resignation on Ryan's face.

The heartbreak.

She would have done anything never to see that look again.

Her best wasn't good enough.

No matter what they did, what they would do, there would always be a part of Ryan they'd never be able to reach.

"Kirsten… Hon…?"

Sandy's gentle voice reached through her thoughts. She offered up a tired smile.

"I'm fine… It's…. The last few days have been really overwhelming. We almost lost him…" She whispered.

Sandy held her.

"I know" he said softly. "Every time I look at him… look at Seth, I see what we could have …"

He couldn't finish the thought. Sandy and Kirsten stayed locked in a comfortable embrace, each silently reminding themselves that they did indeed get in way over their heads, but it was the best decision they had ever made.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Despite his protestations regarding the validity of auto racing as a sport, albeit a graphically designed one, Seth found himself enjoying the game. Ryan seemed engrossed by it, constantly edging Seth's car into the wall.

_Ryan sat cross legged on the floor, clutching a controller. He frantically worked the buttons, trying to make the small blue car go faster around the plastic track. Trey sat across from him, commanding a bright yellow racer. The only noise in the room was the sound of the low hum of the cars as they raced through the slotted course. _

_2 boys playing quietly._

_Brothers._

_A door thrown open._

_Verbal daggers tearing a moment._

_A treasured gift from a neighbour whose own boys had outgrown it now lay in pieces._

_Eyes glistening with tears not allowed to fall._

_Ryan rubbing Trey's back as the last remnants of the older boy's childhood shattered._

Ryan abruptly put the PS2 controller down and left the room, hesitating at the foot of the stairs. He'd promised Sandy he'd stay in the guestroom, but the walls were closing in on him.

Suffocating.

Stealing what little air he could draw into his lungs.

Seth followed him, unsure of what to make of Ryan's sudden departure. Remembering the threat of happy memories with Grandma Nichol being shoved up his ass. He approached cautiously.

"Hey…"

"I'm okay…I just need some space… I'm going to bed…"

"You sure?"

Ryan spun around angrily.

"Some fucking space, Seth…"

"Can I…"

"What's it going to take for you to leave me alone? A cross? A Star of David? I haven't seen the movie. I don't know the fucking rules… Just…"

He pushed past Seth, taking the stairs two at a time, closing the guest room door with a violent shove.

The sound of splintering wood brought Kirsten and Sandy out of the office. They looked questioningly at Seth.

"Don't look at me. He's the one playing on the mood swings, but if you're gonna go in there, bring a priest… Father Karras… Have him perform an exorcism…"

"Seth!" Kirsten admonished.

"I'm just saying I thought his head was going to do a 360 and I'd have to dodge some pea soup, change his name to Regan… Do clergy even make house calls?"

"Not helping Seth… Why don't you and your Dad go do some… _guy stuff_ and I'll go… um, I'll go…"

"Mother, whom I love so dearly, Ryan was quite emphatic about being left alone…"

Kirsten's eyes flashed.

"Well what he wants and what's reality are two different things…"

Sandy and Seth watched as Kirsten threw some coffee beans in the grinder, measured the grinds, filled the coffee make with the Fiji Water and flipped the switch. Her cooking skills may be lacking, but now that she was unemployed she'd make one hell of a barrista. A few minutes later she was headed up the stairs with two steaming mugs that would hopefully gain her entry into the "Fortress of Solitude".

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Seth flopped back onto the family room sofa, looking up at his father expectantly.

"Well I guess the Peep jousting tournament will have to be put on hold, not that I don't want to be spending quality time with you…"

"Peep jousting? Do I dare ask? Do I really want to know…"

A half hearted grin appeared on Seth's face.

"Mom's secret stash of stale Peeps, tooth picks, microwave. The one that doesn't explode wins…and then gets eaten…."

The smile disappeared and a more somber Seth added quietly.

"I don't know what to do anymore. Trey's dead… I get that. Doesn't matter what I do or what I say, it always seems like the wrong thing… And before you say anything, I know it's not about me, but I just want to help…" Sandy lowered his tired body beside Seth's. "I mean we were playing video games. NASCAR. Oh, by the way, don't let mom pick out games again. I'm going to need some serious therapy, but I digress…"

Seth swallowed hard before continuing.

"Ryan lost his brother…. And now I think I'm losing mine too…"

Sandy put his arm around his son's shoulder.

"It's hard to watch him go through this. It's harder when he's pushing us away. He's not just grieving, he's feeling guilty…"

"What does Ryan have to feel guilty about? He jumped in after Trey…Tried to save him…He did everything he could. I don't get it…I mean, Ryan nearly drowned…"

"But he didn't." Sandy interrupted softly. "He survived and now he's second guessing everything. Every decision. When he tries to relax, tries not to think about it, the guilt sets in. He's here playing video games. Trey's not. He has a future. Trey doesn't. I pulled Ryan out of the water, but no one got his brother…. He's hanging on to a lot of guilt…"

"And I told him he wasn't dealing with it… he was feeling sorry for himself…"

Seth felt the supportive squeeze on his arm.

"He's dealing as best as he can.

They sat in a comfortable peace for a few moments.

"I'm thinking we can start our own travel agency with all the guilt trips Ryan takes. You know, rack up some serious frequent flier miles…"

Sandy rolled his eyes.

"Or we can play this NASCAR game your mom bought…"

Seth stood up and held his hand out to his dad.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Kirsten held both mugs in one hand as she knocked on the damaged door. It swung open on its own volition, hanging somewhat askew from battered hinges.

Ryan was lying on the bed, one arm bent over his eyes, the other folded across his chest. Both fists clenched tightly. She called his name softly, not surprised when he ignored her. Kirsten put his coffee on the nightstand and then sat on the end of the bed.

"I remember the day after my mom died…" The way Ryan's body stiffened confirmed her suspicions that he was awake. "Dad was off making arrangements. Seth, Sandy and I were sitting in my parent's living room. Jimmy was there, so were a couple of other people. It was pretty quiet. No one was saying anything. I think we were all afraid to. Out of the blue, Seth announces that Grandma has now having tea with Jesus and Moses, but was wondering if she'd have to keep kosher. Then Seth started asking if they had cheeseburgers in heaven. He had such a serious look on his face. When he asked if my mom was going to start a "Newpsie" club, Sandy, well, you know Sandy, he lost it. The more he tried to control himself, the worse he got and then we were all laughing until Dad walked in with a minister. I felt so guilty. My mom was dead and we were making jokes about kosher cheeseburgers and Newpsies arguing over having 2 black tie events in the same month. Anyway, I ran from the room thinking what a horrible person I was. I had no right to be enjoying myself. I was supposed to be grieving. Pastor MacKenzie found me and me made me realize grieving wasn't what Mom would have wanted. Just because I would move on didn't mean I would forget her. Mom shaped too much of who I am, just like Trey helped to shape who you are. He'll always be a part of you. As long as you keep living, he will too…."

She had said all she could for now. Any more would just push him further away. She needed to wait for him.

Accept what they were offering.

Everything they were willing to give.

Kirsten felt Ryan shift, pulling himself up. She reached out and he hesitated momentarily before he leaned into her arms, allowing himself to be comforted. She felt the warm tears as they seeped into her sweater.

No words were needed.

A mother and her son.

A shared grief.

No longer carried alone.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Caleb hung up the phone. Smug, self satisfaction over-riding any trepidation over what he'd manage to achieve. He was a risk taker. He didn't get to be Newport's "Man of the Year" by playing it safe.

He played to win.

At all costs.

The prize was his daughter.

His grandson.

Taken from him by a felon.

It was bad enough when Kirsten had married a man who didn't have enough sense to make his mark in corporate law, but instead crusaded as a public defender, deluding himself he could change society.

Sandy brought **_that boy_** home.

Kirsten's blind love for Sandy had allowed **_that boy_** to stay.

Her love for Seth had allowed **_that boy_** to weasel his way into the family.

**His family.**

And his family didn't include anyone's discards.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

It took me three days to type out this chapter and it's not even that long. WTF? This whole 2 finger typing sucks the big one. I have no excuse as to why it took me forever to get around to actually posting this other than I'm a lazy bitch. I guess I'm so far off canon now that I should be dropping a trail of breadcrumbs. Aw, the hell with it. We'll all partake of the candy house together.

Thanks for sticking with this story. **Katwoman,** ich friended Sie recht zurück auf LJ. Sie sein ein tapfer klein buckaroo!

Still don't own a damn thing. Can I claim "squatter's rights"?

Chapter Thirteen

Wednesday, 9:04 AM

Ryan readjusted his tie for the fifth time before impatiently yanking it from around his neck, crumpling it into a ball and throwing it on the bed.

"A lot of Italian spiders worked hard to spin enough silk to make that tie…"

Sandy reached over and picked it up. He then flipped up the collar of Ryan's dress shirt and deftly knotted a double Windsor. Smoothing the shoulders of the charcoal grey suit he offered the boy a small smile.

"Let's go say goodbye."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The chapel was small and understated. A simple floral arrangement and a single pillar candle were in place of a casket. Lynyrd Skynyrd played softly from the speakers. Sunlight filtered in through the windows adding a soft glow. Ryan sat between Kirsten and Sandy, both of them holding his hands. Seth and Lindsey were on Kirsten's left. Seth felt his mom's hand slide into his and he reached for Lindsey's.

A family linked together.

_Ryan closed his eyes. He ignored the quiet words, instead let them wrap around him. He felt secure, bundled in a warm cocoon, the absence of light comforting._

"_Ryan…"_

_The voice was so far away._

"_Ryan… C'mon buddy…"_

_He was safe. Once again the darkness was a refuge, sheltering him from the outside world._

"_Time to wake up now. I need you to open your eyes…"_

_Ryan tried to open his eyes, the right one refusing, the left opening a fraction._

"_Good job Ryan… That's good… A little more…"_

"_Trey?"_

"_Yeah, it's me little brother… How 'bout we get you outta there…"_

_Ryan resisted the arms that attempted to pull him up._

"_No…"_

"_It's okay runt… Just wanna clean you up a bit…"_

"_Not a runt." Ryan whispered, a spark of defiance in his voice._

"_Yeah you are, but I can't call you that for too much longer._

_Trey helped his younger brother sit up. He spoke quietly of the 10 year old growing fast as he carefully rolled the blood spattered t-shirt over the blond boy's head. He gently ran his hand over Ryan's rib cage, noting the developing bruises._

"_Where's Dad?"_

_Trey smiled at the bravado in his brother's voice._

"_Why? You lookin' for a re-match?_

_Ryan scowled, pulling away._

"_What pissed him off this time?" Trey asked, casually handing Ryan a clean t-shirt._

"_I asked if he signed the Little League forms. Coach said it wouldn't cost us anything…"_

"_You should've given'em to me…"_

"_Yeah, well, you weren't around."_

_Ryan quickly lowered his gaze. He didn't want Trey to feel guilty for not being around very much anymore, but things were getting worse. Their dad had just gotten out of jail after doing 6 months and couldn't find a job. Mom was just… there. Home. Drunk more often than working, looking at him through glazed eyes as if she were trying to remember where the hell her life went. He tried to stay underneath both parent's radar with limited success._

_His father's voice._

_His father opening the bedroom door where Ryan had ran after the vicious backhand answered his question regarding baseball papers to be signed._

_The chillingly rhetorical "Did you think I was done with you baby boy…"_

Ryan tensed. His breathing quickened. He felt Sandy's and Kirsten's hands automatically squeeze his, silently offering comfort. His sense of panic grew. The sound of his heart pounding deafened him to the minister's words.

_Don't look back. Don't look back._

Kirsten glanced at Ryan who had now paled considerably.

_Don't look back. Don't look back._

Sandy turned his head at the distinctive sound of metal against metal.

_Don't look back. Don't look back._

Ryan refused to open his eyes, fighting to stay in control.

_Don't look back. Don't look back._

Sandy felt the colour drain from his face. The minister stopped speaking. Kirsten became aware of the intrusion behind her.

Ryan slowly stood up and faced his fear. His eyes flickered and then settled into an icy gaze. His facial expression gave away nothing as he squared his shoulders and looked into the soul-less eyes of the man who sired him.

"What's the matter "baby boy"? Aren't you happy to see your old man?" Roger Atwood looked contemptuously around the chapel. "Couldn't wait for Daddy before you started this party?

He glared at Sandy briefly before he twisted his features into a smile.

A feral smile.

An "all the better to eat you with" smile.

"I see you got yourself a new daddy… A new mommy too." Leering at Kirsten he added. "Aren't you gonna introduce me?"

Sandy stepped forward, about to speak. Roger cut him off.

"If I want any lip from you, I'll rattle my zipper…"

The prison guard tightened his grip of Roger Atwood's arm.

"That's enough." He warned. The prisoner pantomimed a kiss in the guard's direction.

"Why are you here?" Ryan asked flatly.

"This is **_my_** son's funeral. Where the fuck else would I be?"

"I guess showing up makes you father of the year, doesn't it?"

The look on Ryan's face sent Kirsten back to juvenile lock-up where for a few moments she had been afraid of and for the boy who would eventually stake a claim on her heart.

As Roger made a move, Sandy and Kirsten took a step forward, shielding their sons.

The minister spoke . "Perhaps you should leave… I can visit you if…"

"Can it Padre. This is between me and my boy." Turning his glare back to Ryan he added. "Remember that Ry… You're my boy… My blood…"

At that point the prison guard pulled Roger away from the Cohens.

"You're nothing but a charity case Ry…. You'll never be family to them…"

As he was led out the door the older Atwood smiled.

"I should have made your mother swallow 18 years ago instead of well, you know..." He swirled his tongue over his lips and laughed while being shoved into the back of a Department of Corrections van.

Silence hung heavily over the chapel. Ryan made the first move, walking to the small table and blowing out the candle. Lindsey tried to take his hand but he pulled away.

"I'm gonna walk back…" He said quietly. Not waiting for a response, Ryan opened the side door and stepped out.

"I'll go with him." Seth whispered. Sandy nodded at him and watched as he disappeared through the same door.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

12:25PM

Lindsey unlocked the door and threw her keys on the hall table. She was surprised to see her mom home in the middle of the day and even more surprised to see Caleb. She walked over to her mother.

"Mom?"

"Your dad wanted to see you…"

"Actually," Caleb announced, cutting Renee off. "I wanted to apologize for my behaviour on Thursday…. I may have been out of line and I'd like to start over again."

Lindsey sat down beside her mom, unsure how to react. This whole "father thing" was new to her, but after what she'd witnessed this morning with Ryan's "real" dad, Caleb didn't seem that bad.

She offered a shy smile.

"I'd like that…"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Seth gave up all pretense of being stealth as he ran to catch up with Ryan. The dress shoes he was wearing did nothing to aid his traction and he slid into the blond, landing them both on the sidewalk.

Ryan was the first to sit up, coughing as he extricated his legs from Seth's. Seth lay on the ground, clutching his chest.

"Dude… I think I'm having a coronary…" He groaned.

Ryan got to his feet and looked at the writhing body.

"Your heart is on the other side."

He held out his hand, pulling Seth up. They stood there awkwardly, unsure of what to do next. Seth decided to state the obvious.

"This is the way to the pier…"

Ryan pulled off his tie and stuffed in the pocket of his suit jacket.

"I need to be there…. I need to do this alone…"

Seth loosened his own tie.

"I hear you, but the alone thing isn't happening. Take all the time you need, but the family's got your back… "

_You're my boy… My blood… You're nothing but a charity case Ry… You'll never be family to them…_

"Not my family." He whispered.


	14. Chapter 14

**Smc's** whining. She's already got **Brandywine** wrapped around her little finger.

I'm soooo her bitch.

_Bet y'all thought I was dead, didn't you?_

Don't own squat as far as **The OC** is concerned.

Chapter Fourteen.

Wednesday, 2:47 PM.

Sandy and Kirsten sat on the patio, lukewarm coffee untouched. Conversation had pretty much been non-existent since they returned home from the chapel, each lost in their own thoughts. As Kirsten stared into the unoccupied pool house, Sandy's mind was working overtime as he reviewed Roger Atwood's surprise attendance at Trey's memorial. The warden had been quite adamant that Roger would not be given permission to attend the service. He'd been at the center of several disturbances and had lost all privileges. Sandy could have argued for a compassionate furlough, but chose not too. The bits and pieces Ryan let slip from his childhood and the few paragraphs from his social services file left Sandy unmotivated to push the issue. Now Roger's appearance led….the trail led back to Caleb. The man had enough friends in high places to call in a few favours, but why? He was positive it wasn't done for altruistic reasons.

Cal didn't do anything that didn't benefit himself in some way.

Realization hit Sandy…

Hard.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Kirsten ran her finger over the rim of her mug, absently tracing the shape of the ridiculously overpriced stoneware, reflecting on the morning. Her thoughts never strayed far from the boys except for the persistent feeling that there was more to Ryan's father, his… Roger's unexpected arrival that morning. Why had he shown up? He had no interest in the service. It seemed that his whole purpose was to disrupt the memorial.

What kind of father would do that?

She **did** know.

Her vision blurred as tears formed.

She refused to let them fall.

**He** did not deserve them.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ryan gazed out over the Pacific. The ocean now calm, but still refusing to release those held captive. Despite all that had happened in the past week Ryan felt a sense of peace. This is where he and Trey spent their last moments.

This is where he felt close.

_Ryan sat in the crowded auditorium, trying not to fidget in his borrowed clothes. Mrs. Diaz had taken in the waist and hemmed the legs of Arturo's Confirmation pants. The pale blue shirt and matching tie were also too big, but Theresa told him he looked hot and had made him promise to save the first dance for her. When he heard his name called, he walked to the stage, searching the audience for his mother prior to addressing the crowd. The flash of a camera and a quick wave from Theresa's mom caused him to falter momentarily before he continued with a strong, clear voice. Ryan talked of hopes and dreams he didn't believe in but was expected to extol as the 8th grad valedictorian of F.D. Roosevelt Middle School graduating class of 2002. Ryan finished and then blushed furiously as Trey, 'Turo and Eddie began whistling and cheering loudly, chanting "Ry, Ry, Ry, Ry." He looked out into the sea of faces once more, swallowing disappointment as he left the stage._

_Another promise broken._

_Security guards removed the boys as Ryan made his way back to his seat. He felt the flush re-ignite up to his ears when he passed Theresa and her hand rubbed against his backside._

_Trey was waiting outside for him after the ceremony and gave him a congratulatory high five before throwing his arms around Ryan's shoulders._

"_I'm proud of you little bro…"_

_Trey slid a small package into his brother's hand and watched the smile that graced his face as he opened the paper, revealing a black cuff. The smooth leather wrapped loosely around Ryan's wrist. _

"_Thanks…"_

_Trey waited until Ryan looked back up at him before dispensing brotherly advice._

" '_Turo said he's gonna kick your ass if you don't bring his baby sister home on time…"_

_Again Ryan was assaulted with the growing redness in his face as the memory of Theresa's hand between his legs caused his dick to twitch. Actually, any time he thought of her his body would react like that. He had no doubt that 'Turo would kill him if he was anything but a caballero perfecto que trato a su herman como un a princessa…"_

_Then again, what Arturo didn't know wouldn't cause Ryan any bodily harm…_

Seth watched as Ryan absently played with his wrist cuff and wondered what he was thinking about. Ryan had yet to utter a complete sentence.

A dipthong.

A dangling participle.

Hell, he'd even be satisfied with his name being used as a predicate adjective.

Silence golden?

Aluminum, maybe…

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Roger Atwood reclined on his bunk. He was one of the "special" inmates of the Lompoc Hilton that was the only resident in the 9x6 cell. A new lawyer, provided by a new benefactor watched as the blond man read through the papers. Wordlessly motioning for a pen, Roger signed the papers. Sitting up he glared at the other man.

"Money's been deposited…"

A statement, not a question.

Nervously the lawyer pulled out a copy of the deposit receipt, a rough hand snatching it. A predatory smile creeping across his face, Roger Atwood waved off his lawyer who wasted no time leaving.

Pocketing the slip, inmate number 91278 lay back again.

Let the games begin.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

8:16 PM

Lindsay ran her fingers over the glossy catalogue.

Westminster School.

23 AP courses and an average SAT score of 1220.

Teacher/student ratio of 1:5.

Enough varied extra-curriculars to pad her application to Yale.

Yale, her dream once she realized that being a fairy princess didn't have a lot of job security, not to mention tulle was highly flammable and didn't mix well with the junior chemistry set she received when she was 6 years old.

Westminster School.

An opportunity she could before only dream of was now within her grasp.

This decision should be a no-brainer.

A few months ago it would have been.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Thursday, 6:40 AM

Eyes struggled to unlock, held hostage by a barrage of noise and colours. Indistinguishable shapes melding, strangling his sensed. Aware now of a gentle touch feathering through his hair.

Who did his hair piss off now?

"Mom…" Seth groaned, managing to pry one eye open. "The Smurfs were going to get me. Nasty, singing Smurfs. Nasty Smurfs singing bad country songs…"

Kirsten helped him sit up, pushing away the afghan that was tangled in his legs.

"Sweetie, you fell asleep during the movie. There weren't any Smurfs, just Sylvester Stallone and Dolly Parton…"

Seth waved his hands.

"No, please…. That's worse than nasty Smurfs yodeling Conway Twitty… Why do we let dad go to the video store alone? The man needs a leash…"

Before Kirsten had a chance to answer, another blanket shrouded figure awoke, this time from the couch.

" Morning…" A startling deep voice rasped out before breaking into a coughing spasm. Kirsten fought the urge to hover over Ryan, instead gripping Seth's shoulder tightly.

"Uh, Mom, the Vulcan nerve pinch? Um…Ow…"

She let go and rubbed his arm in apology. The coughing stopped and Ryan offered a weary smile as he maneuvered into an upright position.

Kirsten stood up and then leaned over to kiss Ryan's forehead.

"Good Morning. You two both look like you need coffee. I'll give you guys a few minutes to wake up and then I'll bring you some."

Seth pulled himself up on the couch and yawned. He closed his eyes and slid back against the cushions.

"Dude. You totally bailed on me last night." Off Ryan's look he continued. "You fell asleep or were rendered unconscious, either or, it doesn't really matter, let's just say I'm still dealing with the abandonment and it's going to take some serious Seth/Ryan time to make up for it, within the first 20 minutes of "Over the Top" you zoned out and left me to watch not only the rest of that movie but "Rhinestone" and "Oscar" as well. A triple shot of Stallone. Do you realize the amount of therapy I'm going to need?"

Ryan closed his eyes and listened to Seth's verbose monologue, his words oddly soothing.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sandy stood at the water's edge watching the waves. 6 foot swells, perfect for surfing. He'd left the house while the boys were still sleeping in the family room. He and Kirsten spent the night cocooned in each others arms. A quiet evening spent watching favourite movies and eating pizza, giving the family a sense of normalacy that had been missing. Now as he looked out over the water the next step for him was to take control of his fear before it overwhelmed him. The ocean nearly took something precious to him. It had already taken a piece of Ryan's heart and had threatened to take his own spirit as well. Ryan's loss was his loss as well. Kirsten's loss. Seth's loss. A loss that was a part of Ryan's family but not a part of theirs, yet they were all grieving. With time, they would all heal.

He tucked his board under his arm and walked out into the surf.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Studying the papers spread out on the table, Caleb barely acknowledged the statuesque red head who shared his bed.

A natural red head.

Well paid for her nightly services, unaware of the contempt her _employer_ held her in.

Dean Ackles nodded in appreciation of her assets as he passed her in the grand foyer. Walking into the kitchen he waited for Caleb to look up. He was used to the game and financial reward was well worth being treated like a mere pawn. Dean played his role well, his animosity for Caleb Nichol hidden beneath a professional mask. As powerful as the head of the Newport Group was, he didn't scare the lawyer. Ackles knew where some of the bodies were buried.

Roger Atwood?

He scared him.

To have to meet a "client" in a federal prison cell instead of the relative safety of the visitation room was unnerving. And a testimony to the power he held in the prison hierarchy. Despite the loss of so called "privileges", Roger was top dog.

"Did he sign the papers?"

Dean opened his brief case and pulled out a sheaf of papers. Caleb scanned them, searching for the signatures.

"How soon can these be served?"

"I have to file the motion this morning. You've talked to Judge Winchester?" Not waiting for the answer the lawyer finished. "24 hours…"

Cold eyes flickered.

"Get it done…"

Summarily dismissed, Dean Ackles took his leave, mentally previewing the events yet to be unleashed.

Caleb Nichol may be pulling the strings but Roger Atwood was definitely the puppet master.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Why is it that a chapter to set up the next plot line is a freaking pain to write? It should be easy. All I have to do is connect the dots, tie up some loose ends… Simple shit, right?

The physio seems to be helping and I can hold a pen once again. It doesn't mean I'll update as much as I should… I'm blaming the kidlets for that…. But hopefully, oh crap let me be truthful. I don't know when the hell the next update will be, but I haven't dropped this story. It will get finished. Who knows maybe I'll finish this before **muchtvs** finishes hers. (You know which story I mean. You actually promised on my head…. Is that why I've had some wicked migraines lately?)

The gauntlet has been thrown down baby.

For my beloved **Shithead,** as always.

Josh still refuses to sell. Perhaps a hostile takeover is in order. Until then, the OC belongs to him and Fox.

Chapter Fifteen.

Thursday, 1:20PM

Kirsten watched her boys floating lazily in the pool, feeling bittersweet because of the circumstances that brought forth the extended family time. She and Sandy made the easy decision to keep Seth home from school until Ryan went back on Monday.

They had engaged in a relaxed "brunchfest", Seth's word of course, complete with crosswords, suduko and an in depth discussion on the art of Fung Shui. This topic initiated of course by Seth who while reading the Arts and Leisure section commented on the fading charm of the minimalist design form. As Kirsten defended the resurgence of 60's chic, Sandy rolled his eyes and commented that the mail truck they had taken up occupancy in was anything but "Fung Shui" or "60's chic". Their first house in Berkeley was furnished in 60's cast offs and now this house was designed by someone with an unpronounceable name, was fashionably gender ambiguous and who for all the money he/she was paid managed to put lemons in a vase but could not come up with a concept that allowed Sandy to easily find his keys in the mornings. And when a ghost of a smile crossed Ryan's face as he listened to the bantering, Sandy allowed himself to believe that the worst may be over. Issues with Caleb not withstanding, the family was finding its way back to center.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sandy had slipped off to Partridge, Savidge and Kahn to tie up a few loose ends. The parting had been amicable. Both parties knew that he was brought in specifically for the Balboa Heights litigation. In lieu of the standard two week notice, Sandy agreed to consult on a few cases still pending. Since very few of their lawsuits actually went to trial, the work involved would be paperwork and phone calls. The anticipation of returning to the P.D.'s office was tempered by the worry of hours spent away from the family. Unlocking the BMW he slid behind the wheel and threw his briefcase into the passenger seat promising himself he'd find a way to balance the two. Kirsten, Ryan and Seth would always come first.

A lesson learned the hard way.

But it definitely forced Kirsten and him to focus on what they always knew was important but was often relegated to the bottom of the pile. They had become the very thing he swore he'd never become.

Corporate.

There was a time when it was a four letter word.

Berkeley and corporate were two words that didn't go together. It was the reason he escaped New York. He didn't want to become another Wall Street Attorney. There was so much more to the law, but even he couldn't avoid being ensnared by a trap baited with money. The "more pro bono good works" he'd initially placated himself with died in the crossfire between irate Newpsies over invasive bamboo and oversized concrete encased steel beams.

Now he was headed back to a seemingly thankless Public Defenders office complete with crappy generic blend coffee.

And it made him happy.

**_This_** was his calling.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Lindsay read through her list once again. It was the 5th pro/con inventory she'd made, shifting priorities, trying to determine a definite outcome. She had every reason to go to the Westminster Academy and only one real reason to stay. After a somewhat sleepless night poring over the brochures to the point of memorization and pacing the floor while carrying on a debate with her inner devil's advocate some things were clearer.

Caleb?

The man didn't acknowledge her for 17 years and **now** he's interested in her educational well being?

Paying for Harbour would have been generous and allowed her to get to know her big sisters better.

Paying for Harbour would have allowed her to graduate next year with kids she actually knew.

Paying for Harbour would allow her to finish a physics project that could have netted her and a certain lab partner some serious coin for university.

Paying for Harbour meant being with Ryan.

Paying for Harbour would mean being with Ryan whom Caleb disliked.

Paying for Harbour would mean having to deal with _"him"._

After the service yesterday, seeing _"him"_ in **her** living room, sitting with **her** mother, offering apologies that seemed a little too pat, conversations that now seemed a little too rehearsed, all given with an oh so subtly implied price tag.

Crumpling her list she made her decision.

Consequences be damned.

She was definitely her father's daughter.

8:45PM

"Quixotic? Who even uses that word?" Seth mentally added the score. Triple letter on the Q **and **triple word score… "Mother… Father… In my 2 ½ years of over priced secondary school education I have never used the word "quixotic" nor have I ever used "zabajone". A word I challenged and lost. One that netted "he who shall not be named" 72 points, thus putting him in the lead. That coupled with the 135 points for the word he just put down has made any attempt by the rest of us to try and win this game rather futile!"

The subject of Seth's rant leaned back in his chair, wishing he could control the redness building in his face.

Kirsten marveled that despite everything Ryan had been through in his life he still managed to maintain the ability to blush. It gave the illusion of innocence.

Even when playing a cut throat game of Scrabble.

"Ryan…. You **are** the Scrabble King and as your first sovereign duty you'll put us out of our vocabulary misery. In return, the Lady of the Manor and I will retreat into the kitchen and soon return with warm beverages and an assortment of baked goods…"

Ryan offered a stiff bow, a royal hand wave and then started to gather up the game tiles. Seth was recalculating the tally sheets.

"So dude… You gonna let me in on your Scrabble secrets?"

Ryan didn't look up.

"Nope".

"574 points and the best you can do is "nope"?"

"Yup"

As the game went back into the entertainment unit, Kirsten and Sandy came back laden with coffee, cookies and pie, as promised. They all settle back to enjoy the rest of the evening. Completely sated by caffeine and Key Lime, Seth announced that the next morning would be the start of "Angst-free Ryan Day".

Ryan shook his head.

"We tried that once. It didn't even last the night, remember?"

"How can I forget oh Imperial Master of the Board Game? I've got a good feeling about this Ryan. In fact, I'll go so far as to proclaim it to be "Angst-free Ryan Weekend"."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Friday, 10:15 AM

"Angst-free Ryan Weekend" got off to an auspicious start with a trip to the doctor's office to remove the remaining stitches in his forehead. Dr. Samuels moved the stethoscope over Ryan's chest and back, a slight frown crossing his face before being replaced with the mask of professionalism. Kirsten however, caught the look. It had taken a little "motherly" persuasion on her part before Ryan yielded to her request to be in the examination room with him. He rolled down his 'beater and shrugged back into his button down. He looked expectantly at the doctor.

"Your gash has healed rather nicely despite the broken stitches and the scar should fade in the next few months. There's still some gurgling in you lungs which should have cleared up by now. Are you still coughing a lot?"

"Sometimes… Not really… At night a little…"

He glanced at Kirsten. She was revving into full "mom-mode" again.

"Is it pneumonia?" She asked, concerned.

"In literal medical terms, yes," Dr. Samuels answered. "but Ryan doesn't have a fever and I'm positive the inflammation in his lungs is from trying to expel the last bit of silt and sea water. I know Dr. Connell prescribed 2 weeks worth of antibiotics so I'd like to see Ryan back next week. I may have to prescribe another round but we'll see how much progress the next few days hold. In the meantime," the doctor looked back at Ryan, "I suggest you initiate some controlled coughing to get the fluid in your lungs moving. And add a few pillows so you're in more of a semi-sitting position when you sleep. That'll help as well…"

"Yippee…" Ryan muttered. Kirsten shot him a "behave yourself look", enjoying once again the scarlet hue that rose to the tops of his ears.

"I mean okay… Yeah… Thanks…"

She really needed to stop making him blush. Not yet though. It gave her a much needed look to a side of Ryan he didn't show. He spent so much time hiding behind controlled actions, very rarely being carefree and spontaneous. Last year telling her he wanted to be 17 but had no idea what that really meant. Kirsten chastised herself inwardly. This was "Angst-free Ryan Day"… Weekend… Month… Life…

"Sweetie, why don't you make sure Seth hasn't gone to Heroes without us… I'll be out in a sec.".

Ryan was grateful to escape the exam room. Kirsten, now in complete "Mother mania" didn't play fair. In order to accompany him into the doctor's office, she threatened him and he had no doubts that she would follow through.

She **definitely** didn't play fair.

Seth was speed reading an issue of "Time". A stack of discarded magazines were piled on the small table beside him.

"I was beginning to think you guys started "AFRD" without me. I have the whole day planned. While sitting here in the Ikea office collection hell, I made a few adjustments to the itinerary.

"We have an itinerary?"

"Yes, and if the Kirsten whom we all love and adore doesn't remove herself from Dr. Samuels presence, I'm going to have to… Speaking of mom, how did she wangle… Wait a second, did I just say "wangle?" How did she, _you know_, her way into the exam room with you?"

"I'd tell you, but then I'd have to kill you…"

Seth's eyes grew wide with mock fear.

"She didn't…?"

"Yup…"

"Now's not the time to revert to mono-syllabicism. Did she really…"

Ryan nodded.

"Dude… That's just evil. I'm sorry you had to be subjected to the dark side of our maternal unit…"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

12:12 PM

Sandy loaded the last of the golf clubs into the back of the Range Rover. It took a little coaxing on his part to get Kirsten to agree to join him and the boys on the golf course. Actually it took a fair bit of coaxing, blackmail, extortion, coercion. Sure her view on golf was that it was something couples did just before they were relegated to a nursing home, sitting in wheelchairs and wearing underwear with someone else's name on them, but now she was finally going to use the clubs he bought her a few years back. Seth had his own set and Ryan used Sandy's old clubs. "Old" being rather subjective. Sandy loved his "less new" clubs with their finely honed sweet spots. The cost of his obsession for "playing the greens" could probably support a small third world country but the afternoon spent on the fairways with his family was priceless.

"Sandford Cohen?"

Sandy turned around, not recognizing the man standing on the driveway.

" That would be me. Can I help you?"

The peace officer took a step forward.

"You've been served."


	16. Chapter Sixteen

See what I have to deal with? It's a wonder that I can get anything done at all.

"Romie -- STOP commenting and START typing, bee-otch.  
NOW! Dammit. And I do mean NOW.  
It's written out. I'm letting everyone know that you've written it out but have not typed it yet.  
Stop trying to steal my Carol Fing Brady crown - you don't need to entertain the kidlets. You need to entertain me, dammit.  
TYPE TYPE TYPE."

Ooooh, the pressure.

Decidedly angst free for Queen Fcking Elizabeth.

I guess I should remind everyone that this is AU and set in mid season 2. All legal errors are mine even though I did research the matter. I'm soooo grateful I live in Canada. Even if I can't buy Kix cereal.

Or Excedrin Migraine pills.

Hey, **muchtvs!** This is my second update in 8 days. You've officially been piñata-ed.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Chapter Sixteen

3:09 PM

Despite Kirsten's dislike for hitting a small white ball on a cultivated cow pasture, she found herself enjoying the afternoon. The fact she was winning didn't hurt either. Sandy had assumed because she didn't _play_ golf translated to she _couldn't_ play. Saturday mornings growing up were spent on the links with her father. Golf wasn't a game played for relaxation or fun. It wasn't father/daughter time. It was to close whatever deal was on the table. She was there to dangle in front of the sons of associates.

The implied prize for doing business with Caleb Nichol.

She caught the sound of Seth's laughter. It came at Ryan's expense after missing a 3 foot putt. She stifled a giggle. If it was just a matter of getting to the green, Ryan could play in junior tournaments..

His short game?

Sucked.

Inwardly she admonished herself not to say "sucked".

Ryan grinned good naturedly as he missed again, finally tapping the ball in with his foot.

Seth gently knocked his own ball in the hole.

"That is called a…." Come on, let me hear you say it… A birdie. And that means what? **_Bye Bye Birdie…_** A quick shout out to Chino musicals? Noooo. It means we have a new leader and that would be who? Right. That would be me. **_I'm King of the Links, Ma…_**

Seth strutted proudly, delivering high fives all around. Sandy distractedly congratulated Seth. Kirsten picked up on the underlying tension emanating from him. His mind was elsewhere. Thankfully the boys hadn't picked up on it. Seth and Ryan raced to the golf cart, jostling each other for possession of the driver's seat. Kirsten approached her husband. His smile belied the worry in his eyes.

"Sandy?"

He kissed her forehead.

"We'll talk later. It's "Angst-Free Ryan" day and I'll be damned if anything spoils it for him… For us.

Let's go catch up to the kids."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Dean Ackles made himself comfortable in Caleb's office. Everything had gone as planned. The motion was filed and Sandy Cohen was served the summons. He was a little surprised he hadn't heard anything yet. He was positive he'd be facing the wrath of Cohen sooner than later.

Sandy Cohen's legal acuity was legendary. It was often felt in the judiciary circles that his talents were wasted in the Public Defenders Office. He could easily have been District Attorney or a powerful defense lawyer. The entire legal community watched with interest when Sandy took on his father-in-law and won a case that was considered a lost cause.

For those reasons Ackles disliked him. Sandy had opportunities Dean could only dream of. Sure he himself was a good lawyer. He was actually a very good lawyer, but very good lawyers were a dime a dozen.

He just wasn't exceptional.

Exceptional lawyers were a rare breed.

Exceptional lawyers had the status.

Exceptional lawyers made the exceptional money.

Hell, exceptional lawyers got the good tables in restaurants.

Exceptional lawyers didn't do grunt work for Caleb Nichol.

_Speak of the devil and the devil doth appear._

A rather disinterested devil.

Caleb brushed passed the lawyer and poured himself a drink, not offering one to his minion.

"Everything set?"

"Judge Winchester signed off. Due to the nature of the case and the relatively short time frame we have, Cohen has only 14 days to respond. Doesn't matter though, precedent alone will get any motion he files tossed out. Hell, even the ACLU is on our side…"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

6:40 PM

Score keeping had been abandoned by the 7th hole. All sense of golf etiquette was lost by the 16th. More rules than not had been broken and it was undoubtedly the most enjoyable afternoon on the course Sandy had. Now the family sat in the clubhouse. He fought to keep thoughts of the summons sequestered in the back of his mind. This day was going to stay drama-free, at least for Kirsten and the boys.

Speaking of the boys, the sounds of good-natured teasing drew him back.

"Dude… Just because they put the bendy straw in your ice-tea doesn't mean you have to use it…"

Ryan took another long draw from his drink before snatching the fruit skewer that adorned Seth's glass, eating it before he could protest.

Kirsten smiled at their antics. Sandy fixed them with a look.

"Don't make me pull over this restaurant over." He intoned with mock seriousness. "If you two can't behave…"

The not so subtle cough of the unamused waiter stopped Sandy from finishing his threat. He managed to return some semblance of propriety to the table.

Sandy and Kirsten both ordered the seafood risotto. Seth was undecided. Ryan was hungry. For the first time in a week the gnawing in his stomach was hunger. He was gong to enjoy this.

"I'd like a cheeseburger please…"

The waiter's eyebrow went up.

"We don't have cheeseburgers on the menu. Perhaps you should order something we have. Do you need a few minutes yet?" The disdain was apparent.

This time the embarrassment creeping up Ryan's face was tinged with shame. His appetite pretty much disappeared. He opened the menu again.

"You have Steak Tartare on the menu…" It was a statement, not a question.

The tone in Kirsten's voice caused Ryan to look up.

"Yes we do." The waiter conceded. Sensing he was on the verge of losing a generous tip, he shifted to a conciliatory manner. "It is a chef's specialty. Prime, tender, hand cut beef…"

Sandy sat back to enjoy the show. The Kirsten was channeling her inner mother bear and this soon to be ex-waiter was going to get his ass chewed.

"That sounds lovely. Perhaps the line cook could grill it medium well, add a couple slices of 12 year old Balderson and put it on a lightly toasted ciabatta bun that according to the menu are freshly baked on the premises. That sounds remarkable similar to a cheeseburger, wouldn't you say," Kirsten glanced at the waiter's name tag. "James?"

"Yes ma'am." James sense of self was taken down a peg. "I'll oversee the order personally."

Seth closed his menu.

"I'll have the Tartare too… Well done, hold the cheese, hold the spit…" He gave James his best _You're so busted _smile. "And if you'd be so kind as to bring me another virgin Margarita, not that it speaks of my prowess with the ladies and my brother an ice-tea with another bendy straw, I'd really appreciate it."

James nodded and left quickly.

The family was quiet. For the first time ever, Ryan felt **he** had to break the silence.

"Thanks… you didn't have to…"

"Hey, no probs… No one can work the bendy straw and still look as manly as you. Awwwwwww, you look so cute when you blush…

"Seth, I know where you sleep…."

"Mom… Ryan's scaring me…"

Angst free Ryan day was an unqualified success.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Saturday 4:22 AM

Sandy ran a hand through his hair as he considered how to respond to the summons. There would be no hiding this from Ryan, no behind the scenes legal maneuvering. No waving a magic briefcase and making it disappear.

He wasn't that good of a lawyer.

In theory, the motion should even make it in front of a judge, but in reality the system was not on their side. The fact that the time usually allowed to answer motions had been reduced to 14 days from the standard 30 showed that the cards were stacked against them. Sighing, he locked the papers in his desk, his resolve building. He had a good idea who was behind this latest development but he knew there would be no trail leading back. This was the one aspect of this whole mess he wished he could hide, could protect his family from. Out and out confrontation would be futile at this point. A waste of resources. The time would come for the house of cards to crash down

The Cohens, all four of them would still stand.

He **was** that good of a lawyer.

Opening the door to Seth's room, Sandy smiled as he watched his son sleep, arms and legs sprawled all over the bed. The sleep of one safe in the knowledge that mom and dad would keep the monsters away.

Across the hall, he listened to the steady but still raspy breathing of his other son. Ryan slept propped up on a pile of pillows, his head tilted uncomfortably to the side. Sandy didn't dare move him, afraid the boy would awaken.

He vowed he'd do whatever he could to keep the monsters away, but the monsters he was dealing with didn't just hide under the bed.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

Same legal stuff as in the previous chapters.

For my beloved **Shithead. ** I may never go on vacation again. Crap just seems to rain down upon your head in biblical proportions when I do.

Chapter Seventeen.

It was still dark when Kirsten walked out to the patio. She had been waiting for Sandy to come back to bed. She'd heard him checking on the boys, listening for his foot steps to come back down the stairs. He had by-passed their room, instead prowling the kitchen. When she heard the garden door open, Kirsten reached for her robe and padded out through the bedroom's glass doors, the damp grass cool on her feet. Sandy looked up as she sat down and pushed his untouched mug of tea towards her.

"Talk to me." She asked softly, reaching for his hand.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

8:16AM.

Seth wandered into the kitchen just as the last of the coffee dripped into the pot. Ryan silently reached for a second mug, filling them both.

"Ninjas?" Seth's eyes were barely opened.

"Bring it on…"

It was nearly 11AM when Sandy woke, Kirsten's head on his chest, her arms wrapped around him. They had talked until nearly 6, first quietly venting their anger and frustration at the latest turn of events and then strategizing how best to address the situation. No matter how they approached it, the fallout could quite possibly break the tenuous hand-hold Ryan had with the family. He'd see this as somehow being his fault. His past rearing it's ugly head. Their goal was to protect him, but not hide this from him. They'd allow him to decide how to handle it. As much as they wanted to take control of the situation, be the parents they've promised themselves they'd be, they had to step aside but not step away, let Ryan lead… But they would still help steer.

Walking into the family room they were surprised to see Seth watching tivo'd Daily Show alone.

"Good morning Parental Entities. You're just in time for a little Jon Stewart… A little cerebral badinage…"

Sandy raised an eyebrow.

"Badinage?"

"I know it's not worth much on a Scrabble board but it sounds rather impressive, doesn't it?"

Seth noticed the smile on his dad's face was restrained.

"Is everything alright with you two? No fighting over the crosswords…"

"We're fine Seth." Kirsten fiddled with the edge of her sleeve.

"Ooooo-kay….And we all thought Ryan couldn't lie to save his life…. You guys are just as bad. While that little flaw is helpful when it comes to intense questioning regarding Chrismukkah gifts, right now it leads me to believe that "Angst Free Ryan Day" will not be held over."

The silence answered for them.

"Well then, seeing as Ryan has left the building, can you give me a preview of the drama yet to unfold?

"Where's Ryan… Did he say when he'll be back?"

"Whoa, Dad… Chill-ax… That vein in your forehead is going "Alien"…"

"Seth…." Sandy's voice was tight.

"He went to see Lindsey… Said he'd be back by 2…"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ryan sat on the front porch of Lindsey's house, turning the envelope over in his hands. His name had been written on the front. He made no attempt to open it. It didn't matter what it said. They were just words on a piece of paper.

Meaningless.

Empty.

Redundant.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

4:13 PM

Sandy replaced the telephone handset after speaking to Renee Wheeler. Ryan had told Seth he'd be home a couple of hours ago. Lindsey's mother called, worried about Ryan. He was shocked when she told him that Lindsey had left for Connecticut. She admitted that yes, it was sudden but her daughter had the opportunity to transfer to one of the most prestigious prep schools in the country. She herself had received a job offer at the city planners office in Simsbury. Sandy asked about the unexpected nature of the changes and Renee had replied that both the school and the job were too good to turn down. It would be a new start for Lindsey. A chance to deal with being Caleb Nichol's daughter away from Caleb's influence.

Kirsten and Seth had been privy to Sandy's side of the conversation and were able to fill in the blanks.

Lindsey left.

Lindsey left Ryan.

Lindsey left Kirsten, a sister she was just getting to know.

Lindsey left Ryan, a boy she was getting to know better.

A boy who had enough people leave him.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Caleb lay back on the bed, his hands entangled in the hair of the natural red head as she went down on him. Julie would be spa-ing her way through Europe for another few weeks. Time enough to hide the majority of his assets incase she tried to contest the pre-nup. There were one or two loopholes that had been overlooked in his lust driven fervour to marry her, but now she was becoming a very expensive pastime in comparison to the dalliance sucking his dick.

Sandy was looking for his car keys, moving the vase of lemons, mentally berating himself for not replacing Ryan's cell phone when he heard the door leading from the garage open. Kirsten heard it as well, a smile of relief erasing some of the worry. Sandy visibly relaxed and adopted a casual pose against the kitchen island.

"Hey…"

"Hey kiddo…" Sandy and Kirsten were at a loss for words. Do they let Ryan know that they had spoken to Renee? Do they wait for him to talk to them?

"Sorry I'm late…"

"You're not late… You're just in time to navigate as we trek to the Mongolian Grill… Unless you want to drive…"

"Is talking optional?"

"I'm afraid not."

"You better drive…"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The road trip to the Grill took considerably longer than usual. A detour to a park where an uneasy monologue took place and a silent, emotionally battered young man re-entered the Beemer staring vacantly out the window. Sandy drove home, the hush thick and heavy. The food was cold and forgotten by the time they returned home. Ryan slipped quietly up the stairs, closing the door to the former guest room behind him. While Sandy and Ryan were gone, Kirsten told Seth of the new developments.

"I don't get it… Why now? Ryan hasn't seen his… _Him_ or heard from _Him_ and now _he_ wants to be Ward Cleaver? Being with us was supposed to make things better for Ryan…"

"I know things are difficult right now but you have to trust that your father and I are handling this as best as we can, but we need to find out how Ryan wants to deal with this."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Seth absently played computer games in his room, listening for any sign of Ryan. The food stayed untouched in the plastic containers. Kirsten tried to read one of the books she'd picked up last Monday. Sandy isolated himself in his office looking for any legal stratagem he could use. The ruling in "Linetty vs. Weldy" did not bode well for Ryan. Their only hope would be to continually file motions, hoping to stall the petition.

Unfortunately that tactic came with a risk. He'd very well end up sitting in jail on contempt charges.

He'd do it in a heartbeat if it meant the hearings would be delayed, but Judge Winchester didn't like games.

He could be enough of a bastard and have Ryan removed from their custody until his 18th birthday.

Sandy usually wasn't opposed to a gamble but this time the stakes were too high.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Prison gave a man a lot of time to think… When he wasn't fighting for survival. Roger Atwood's thoughts were of grand plans once he got out of prison, now that he had finances in place. A parole hearing next year meant he had a limited amount of time to assert the hard won authority he had over the other convicts before he'd step away from his outward show of dominance and play the game. A clean record for six months should make him a good candidate, especially with his new best friend paying the bills.

Re-shelving the books in the prison library, his mind wandered to his boys. Normally he pushed away any images of them far into the recesses of his brain.

That was another life.

Now those memories crept into his daily thoughts. He hadn't seen either of them for over 8 years. He had a hard time picturing Trey. If he were still alive, would he have even recognized his son?

And Baby Boy…

Born despite Dawn swearing she'd had an abortion.

They'd just moved to Fresno. They had no money…were living out of their car.

He found out he'd gotten a job at the foundry while Dawn was giving birth on a dirty kitchen floor while working a double shift at Dunkin' Donuts.

The bitch didn't even look pregnant.

She was a fucking cow when she had Trey.

Despite another mouth to feed and the loss of Dawn's income, Roger couldn't help but believe the Atwood luck was changing. A job with benefits, a pension plan…

He was living the American Dream.

The plant closed.

Re-opened in China.

The dream ended.

A series of low paying jobs.

Never enough to get by.

He took out his frustrations on Trey and Baby Boy.

Mostly on the little one.

Loved to make him cry.

Didn't take long before the brat didn't cry anymore.

Didn't say much either.

Scrappy though. But a reminder of how fucked up everything was.

The robbery was easy. Lots of money in the register because the Power Ball was 90 million.

People buying dreams at 2 bucks a crack.

Celebrating with Jim, Jack, Jose and a few lines of Colombian.

A knock on the door.

Opening it to find cops starting to explain about the little bastard being hit by a car.

Seeing a handgun and drug paraphernalia .

Probable cause.

Guilty verdict.

9-12 years as a guest of the California Prison System.

Now Baby Boy was grown.

Living a new life with a new family.

Staring him down at the chapel.

The kid definitely had balls.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ryan buried the envelope from Lindsey in the dresser drawer.

The one overflowing with new boxers.

He couldn't deal with this now. Maybe it was for the best. He was already on drama overload. Looking around the guest room he noticed more of his things had been brought in from the pool house.

His things.

He came to the Cohens with nothing but the torn and smokey clothes he'd been taken to juvie in. Everything else was lost in the fire.

Those were his things.

These weren't.

Not really.

He hadn't earned them.

He hadn't done anything to deserve them.

For the last year and a half he'd been waiting for them to ask for pay-back.

That's how it worked.

It's what he was taught.

Beaten into him.

Lessons never forgotten.

Now the Cohens were showing him something different.

Living different.

Words, not fists, bottles or belts.

Bringing him into the family instead of kicking him out.

He wanted to trust them and he does, but he's so used to dealing with his own shit.

How fucked up is that?

The biggest gift he could give the Cohens is to let them take his burdens from him.

To give them the last bit of trust he'd been hoarding…


	18. Chapter Eighteen

I'm not really feeling the love for this chapter. Maybe it's because my beloved **Shithead** isn't here to sweet talk me.

Chapter Eighteen

Sandy was surprised the tentative knock on the door was Ryan. He ushered him into the office, keeping in mind this was his son, not just his client. He spoke of the few options they were limited to and the best way to approach the petition. Ryan slowly shook his head.

"I don't want to fight it… I'll do what it says…"

"Ryan… You don't have to… I'll find a way…"

"Look, we both know someone else is pulling the strings. My uh, Roger doesn't have the resources to make this happen and he doesn't do anything unless there's a payoff for him…"

"That's what we'll do then… We'll pay him to drop this…"

"No way…"

"Ryan, we have the resources… money's not an issue…"

"You could get disbarred. I won't let you do it."

Sandy raised an eyebrow.

Ryan gave a small shrug.

"Livin' with a lawyer, you learn a few things…"

"Are you sure this is how you want to do this because no matter what you decide we're behind you… We'll have your back."

Ryan allowed himself to be pulled into a hug, his stoicism crumbling.

"Why does _He_ hate me so much?" Whispering so softly he was positive he hadn't said it out loud.

Sandy heard it.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sunday 10:30 AM

Sandy and Kirsten woke to the glorious smell of breakfast. The dining room table was set and Ryan and Seth were finishing up in the kitchen.

"Is this about the stain on the living room carpet?" Kirsten asked, maintaining a stern demeanour.

"Dude, I thought you told me it came out…" Seth hissed at Ryan.

"You never got away with anything as a kid did you. Your mom's messing with you and now she knows **you** dumped the grape soda…" Ryan smirked, looking at Kirsten.

"You said you wouldn't tell…"

"He didn't." Kirsten snickered. "You did…"

Sandy sat down at the head of the table, using his fork as an ersatz scepter.

"As refreshing as this morning's banter is, I for one am hungry and if you don't sit down, there may not be anything left."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Monday 7:04 AM

Sandy knocked on the door of the former guest room, now belonging to Ryan. Getting no answer he walked in. The bed was already made, books piled carefully beside the school bag and the sound of the shower running.

"Guess I may need to find another job…" Sandy smiled to himself. He still had to wake up his other son, the one who was definitely not a morning person. The one who took after his mother.

As expected, Seth was still sprawled all over his bed, a tangle of arms and legs.

"C'mon Seth… Up and at 'em… Let's go…"

A mop of dark unruly hair emerged from a layer of blankets.

"Déjà vu or a nightmare?" He mumbled

Kirsten's voice carried from outside his room.

"Seth. Bed. Out. Now."

"Nightmare… Definitely…"

Kirsten dropped the boys off at school on her way to yogilates. Maybe she'd take a kickboxing class instead. Video hand to hand combat with a computer generated opponent that looked remarkably like her father hadn't done nearly enough to channel her anger issues. Maybe kicking the shit out of a rubber mannequin would help.

This time she didn't admonish herself for saying the word "shit".

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sandy parked the car in front of a non-descript grey office building. A security officer held the door open, and the receptionist directed him to the fourth floor. Dean Ackles office was a good size. A secretary and a paralegal shared the front room. Sandy introduced himself telling her he was expected. Moments later Ackles came out of his office.

"Sandy Cohen?" Dean held out his hand. He could afford to be solicitous.

Sandy ignored the outstretched hand. He followed Ackles into his office. Opening his briefcase, Sandy pulled out the paperwork he'd completed.

Taking the papers the other lawyer scanned through them.

"You're not contesting the petition? He asked dubiously. He was hoping for a legal skirmish, something to set him apart from the other "very good" lawyers.

Taking on Sandy Cohen would give cachet to his career.

"**My** client doesn't wish to fight this. He'll abide by the petition. We'll just need to make the arrangements. I trust this will be satisfactory with **your** client?"

Sandy's face was unreadable, his emotions well hidden behind a professional façade. Dean couldn't get a sense of what he was planning.

Compliance was not the strategy he had expected.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

School couldn't end soon enough for Ryan. He'd grown tired of the stares and whispers. He'd stop in the hall and stare back at the other students until they'd lower their eyes and move away.

The gossip about Lindsey's whereabouts stung though.

The rumours he'd heard would have been laughable if there hadn't been a little bit of truth behind them. Caleb did manage to keep them apart, just not for the reasons that were being spread by the Newpsie spawn.

He had only one more class to get through. With the way Dr. Kim was fawning over him he could probably get away with clocking the next Speedo wearing, chest shaving, Abercrombie and Fitch clone in the face. He was about to test that particular theory after algebra when Seth appeared behind him, pulling him away from a potential fracas.

"Walk and talk Ryan…. Walk and talk… Although it would have given me pleasure in the most unlikely of places if you did in fact throw down with the water-logged jocks… Maybe a tactical withdrawl would be to our advantage… Not to mention Dad's out in the parking lot…"

Ryan allowed Seth to lead him through the doors. He was wound so tightly that one more snide comment would have pushed him past the point of no return.

"C'mon… We'll go get tattoos and a couple of hookers… My treat… If that doesn't do it for you… well, I don't have any other ideas right now but… Oh look, there's our ride…"

Seth had never worked so hard to keep talking. Even when he babbled there was usually some thought or reason behind his words.

Now he just hoped his non-stop prattle wouldn't get him punched.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Kirsten's day had taken a left turn into the twilight zone. Forgoing a shower at the gym in favour of a long soak in the tub at home, she was met in her driveway by Charles Haydn.

Another one of Southern California's power brokers in the realm of commercial construction.

He asked if they could meet at 3:30.

But that was when the boys got home.

She wanted to be there for them, with milk and cookies if necessary. It was the start of a new parenting regime.

Involved.

Connected.

Informed.

June Cleaver.

She didn't give him firm answer. Haydn said he'd wait for her call.

Then, Sandy phoned.

He wasn't coming straight home with Ryan and Seth.

"Lebowski Therapy" he called it.

Now she was sitting in the Huntington Beach Yacht Club dining room.

Charles Haydn's proposal surprised her.

"This may be a conflict of interest." She murmured as she perused the documents.

Haydn smiled.

"I've done my homework. You had no exclusivity clause in your employment contract. As a matter of fact, there is nothing legally stop you from setting up shop and raiding the clients of The Newport Group…"

Off Kirsten's look he continued.

"Except your own moral compass…"

She closed the folder.

"I can't do this to my father. No matter what my reasons were for leaving the company…"

"Mrs. Cohen… The Newport Group has already forfeited this project. We made the offer on the condition you personally oversee it. With you no longer employed by the Group , the offer is void. The other tenders we received weren't able to meet our criterion. We want you to be the general contractor on the hospital expansion. You know the sub trades… They respect you. We're already behind on this and we're prepared to make it very much worth your while…"

Kirsten cleared her throat, giving her a moment to think.

"I'll have to discuss this with my family. I'll tell you up front that Sandy and the boys are my first priority. I will not be working 72 hour weeks and be available 24/7. Those are **my **terms. I'll have an answer for you within 48 hours."

Kirsten opened the menu.

"Now…what do you recommend?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Seth was less than enthused when Sandy pulled into the "Big Bowl Bowl-A-Rama".

"Bowling? It's bad enough we're in Anaheim. This isn't the happiest place on earth. In fact, I want to know what I did to deserve this form of hell?"

Sandy put his arm around Seth's shoulder as Ryan slid out of the back seat.

"If I wanted to punish you guys we'd be having karaoke night. As it stands now, we're just going to enjoy a few frames… a couple of hot dogs…"

"The thrill of wearing someone else's shoes…"

"Some male bonding… getting the testosterone flowing…"

"Mutant bacterium eating their way through our socks…"

"Spending some time with your dear old dad…"

"Burrowing into the soles of our feet, invading our blood stream, replicating at an incredible speed…Help me out Ryan."

"Not watching Stallone movies…"

Seth gave up.

Rather easily, for a change.

"At least Kid Chino and his Fists of Fury doesn't have to worry about his short game… I don't think there's a "nice and easy" in bowling…"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

It was a very impatient Caleb Nichol that paced Dean Ackles waiting room.

Caleb didn't do waiting.

He kept people waiting.

Finally the door to the lawyer's office opened.

An impatient Caleb strode into the middle of the room, waiting for Ackles to close the door again.

"Well…"

"Sandy Cohen signed off on the petition. He's not going to contest it…"

"What are you talking about? Of course he's going to contest it. He's the boy's guardian…" Caleb was incredulous.

Dean had to give props to Cohen. Despite everything, he still managed to one-up the old man.

"The papers are signed. Ryan signed them as well. They're going to comply with the terms we asked for…"

"How in the hell could **you** let this happen!"


End file.
